In Too Deep
by AlikeReaction
Summary: Steve's undercover assignment presents some situations he never thought he would have to confront.
1. Chapter 1

**IN TOO DEEP**

_Chapter 1_

Steve's thoughts turned to his father as he drove the battered pick up through the industrial area. He hadn't spoken to him for three days now, and hoped everything was okay with him. He also thought about Amanda and Jesse, and wondered what sort of patients they had seen at the hospital recently. He felt a pang of longing for his usual life, spending time with his friends and helping Jesse to run BBQ Bob's. It's only been three days so far, he told himself sternly. There's no good in dwelling on that sort of thing. Concentrate on the task in hand.

It was funny how even though he hadn't left Los Angeles, just being away from familiar people and familiar environments really made him miss home. Especially when the new people and new environments you were experiencing were not the kind you'd choose if the choice was up to you, he thought grimly.

He continued to drive past large warehouses, deeper into the industrial estate.

In the last few months, wealthy people had been targeted by criminals and blackmailed for money. The police had apprehended several people directly related to the crimes, but a couple of weeks later the blackmailing started up with a new victim. It appeared that the gang running the blackmail consisted of more than a couple of people. The methods were varied between victims; sometimes the victim was threatened to have an affair revealed, another was discredited in his job, in another instance the family cat was taken hostage. In all cases the crime was extremely well planned and researched, and the police had so far been unable to capture anyone of importance in the scam. They had only caught the odd person employed to do the dirty work, and usually only when they became careless, as they were well prepped. Not one of those so far apprehended had been able to reveal any information about the main instigator of the blackmailing, and so the crimes continued.

In the last case of blackmail the police had managed to identify one of the general dogsbodies involved, but instead of arresting him, they simply made note of who he was. They wanted to catch the big fish. Steve had drawn the short straw to start an undercover assignment, which began with him making a seemingly chance encounter with this man, one Alan Carter. His job was to infiltrate the group, discover exactly how many people were involved, find the main person in charge and once he had enough evidence, call in the backup and arrest the lot.

So far, however, the assignment was proving to be frustrating. Steve was in contact only with Carter, and another guy called Greg. He hadn't found anything useful – his two new friends were very cagey about who was involved and how. Knowing the intelligence behind this operation, Steve had been instructed to make no contact whatsoever with his father or any friends, and to do nothing that would suggest he wasn't who he said he was. Holed up in a grimy one room apartment in a rough area, he felt lonely in the evenings.

Still, he gave daily updates to Cheryl. She would tell him immediately if anything had happened to his father or friends. But he still wondered what they were up to in their daily lives.

Pegging Steve as intelligent, he had been set the task of researcher. He had been told to go to the library and identify suitable targets for the next sting, although he had the feeling there was one in the pipeline, already researched and soon to start. He hoped he would be a part of it, and suspected that he had to prove himself through this work before he would be let into anything bigger.

I hope they accept me soon though, he reflected. I don't want to be stuck in that apartment a day longer than needs be. And my day time company lacks something too.

Both Carter and Greg were very quiet. Steve had had hardly a word out of Greg. Carter had been giving him his instructions so far, but Steve was sure they were coming from someone else higher up.

At the back of the industrial estate the units were much smaller. Steve negotiated the van around the other trucks parked along the road and pulled up in the parking lot of the last unit, number fifty-three. There was a large storeroom on the ground level, with an office off to the side. A staircase led upstairs which Steve assumed contained more office rooms, but he had never been taken up there.

He grabbed a sheaf of files from the passenger seat beside him and went over to unit 53. There was a large door that a truck could drive through, but a smaller entrance next to it. Steve opened it and went inside.

There was no one in the main room, but Steve could see a light in the office. The storeroom was filled mainly with boxes, the ones that were open showing a varied assortment of equipment and materials. Steve assumed they were things used in the various blackmailings that had occurred already. A couple of cars and a large white van were also parked inside.

Carter was alone in the office. He looked up as Steve came in. "Done?"

"Yeah," Steve said, putting the files down on the desk. "I looked at about twenty names that seemed suitable at first. Then I did more detailed research on the eight most likely targets. There's a file on each."

"All worth more than ten million?" Carter asked, flicking through the names on the front of the files.

"Yes, they're pretty rich."

"Looks great." Carter turned back to whatever he had been working on at the desk.

"I've got all I can from paperwork," Steve said, when it was clear Carter wasn't going to say any more. "So I guess the next move must be observation of the targets. You want me to gather some information that way?"

"That's not your area," Carter said. He looked up. "But I'm glad you're keen. Here." He handed Steve an envelope of cash; he was being paid for his work.

For a moment Steve thought he was being dismissed without the prospect of further work, but then Carter indicated the files and said "I'll take a look at this. If you've done a good job, there's something a bit more interesting coming up. Some delivery work. Stay at the same address, and I'll be in touch."

Steve grunted in acknowledgement and, hiding his relief, walked out.

_A/N: Hope you enjoyed, next part coming soon. Please review - I like to know what you think!_


	2. Chapter 2

Steve returned to his grubby apartment building as the sun set, and parked his blue pickup on the street. He climbed the stairs with their frayed edges while holding his breath, due to the unpleasant stench that rose from the old carpet. Still, he did not dare to take the creaking, groaning elevator. His room was on the fourth floor, and he unlocked the door and threw his keys on the table.

The first thing he did was open the window in an effort to clear the musty aroma that seemed to develop as soon as the window was shut for more than ten minutes. Then he helped himself to a cold drink from the fridge and sat on the lumpy sofa.

Steve turned on the television and flicked channels, but he couldn't settle to watching anything. He rubbed his neck and then the inside of his shirt collar irritably. It itched. Heaven knew where Cheryl had come up with these clothes from, but they were not comfortable.

His gaze was drawn to the phone, and he sighed. He knew it was no good expecting a call from Carter yet, but he was eager to get on with his assignment and learn more about the organisation. So far, he had learnt nothing much more than he knew before he started. And I've spent three days in this hole for the privilege, he thought grumpily.

On an impulse he reached forward towards the phone, meaning to call his father, but he checked himself quickly. This gang were known to use quite sophisticated technology in some of their stings. They may well have bugged his apartment. He would never do anything that might put his father in danger. I wonder what he's doing, Steve thought.

X X X

"I wonder what Steve's up to right now," Mark said, during a well earned coffee break in the staff room with Amanda. "I find it very odd not having him around."

"I know," said Amanda. "I'm used to him appearing in my pathology lab at least once a day. It must be stranger for you to go home to an empty house. But you know he's fine."

"I suppose he must be," Mark said, settling onto a chair. "Cheryl would tell me if anything was seriously wrong. He wasn't really looking forward to this assignment though. And I just want to know how he's getting on, how much longer he thinks it might take."

"Yes, not knowing is the hardest part," Amanda agreed. "But Steve knows his job. He'll be careful. Why don't you come and have dinner at mine tomorrow? I'd ask you tonight but I've only just started my shift. The boys would like to see you I'm sure."

"That would be great, Amanda, I'd love to," said Mark, recognising that Amanda was just trying to make sure he wouldn't be lonely, but knowing that his beach house would feel just as vacant when he returned to it later. He stood up and stretched. "Ah well, I finish in an hour."

"Me too!" announced Jesse, coming into the staff room and grabbing a cup of cold water from the cooler. "And not a moment too soon. Today has been long." He drank deeply.

"Jesse, would you like to join us at mine tomorrow night?" Amanda asked.

Jesse pulled a disappointed face. "Much as I hate to turn down the offer of free food, I promised to make a house call after work tomorrow. A friend of mine, Nathan, he's not very well. I said I'd call in, save him the trouble of going to his doctor."

"Why aren't you going tonight?" Mark asked.

"Ah, tonight, my friends, I have a date." Jesse threw his cup in the bin and left with a wave

"Anyone we know?" Amanda asked, but Jesse had gone.

X X X

Bored with the same four walls, Steve held his breath again and left the apartment as the sun was setting. He walked a couple of blocks away and sat down on a park bench, where he pulled out his cell phone and made his daily call to Cheryl.

"I hope I did a good job," he told her. "I worked hard enough in the library. Felt like I was back in school."

"Well, I guess you better get back to your pad and wait for the call," Cheryl said.

"Yeah," Steve said. He hesitated a moment, wanting to ask after his father, but he didn't want Cheryl to think he was preoccupied and not concentrating on the job, so instead he said goodbye and headed back to his apartment.

X X X

As he went along the corridor towards his room he heard the telephone ringing. He dashed forwards, thrust the key in the lock and rushed to answer the phone.

"Barber," he said, giving the surname of his alias. As he had hoped, it was Carter.

"Come back to the warehouse. We got a job for you." And he hung up.

Glad to be doing something, Steve grabbed his keys and a jacket and headed back out.

X X X

Carter and Greg were sitting in the little office off the main room. Carter handed him two envelopes.

"Mr William Haughton-Handley," he said. "Even the name sounds rich, doesn't it? Post one in his mail box. Put the other one under the wiper on his car. To make sure he gets it. Don't be seen."

"What's in it?" asked Steve.

"Our demands," Carter said, not elaborating.

Steve decided to push. "You've told me what you are doing here, what this is all about. Why can't you tell me what you've got on this guy?"

Greg looked at him coldly. "Hey man, you can't just saunter in here and expect us to tell you everything about us."

Carter nodded in agreement. "Once you've shown you're willing to get your hands dirty, then we'll let you get more involved. Hell, we've only known you a few days. Curiosity killed the cat. Stop questioning us and get on with it."

"Sorry," Steve said hastily. "I'm just nosy to know what dirty laundry this guy has I guess." He grinned apologetically, and was thankful to see Greg and Carter relax. "I'll do it now," he said. "What then?"

"Then," Carter said, with an unsettling smile, "we wait."

X X X

Steve was itching to open the envelopes and see their contents, and was considering pulling over on his way to the address and taking a peek. He decided against it though, and was glad he had when he observed a dark car a little way behind him that seemed to be taking the same route as he.

He parked at the end of the street where Mr Haughton-Handley lived and walked casually along until he reached number 235. It was dark now, but the street lights illuminated the house numbers. The residences on this road were all very large and obviously belonged to rich people. Number 235, like many of the others, had a large gate across the entrance. Steve could see the house at the end of the drive about a hundred yards inside. There were two Mercedes parked outside the garage. The house was dark but Steve's observant eyes noted security cameras attached near the side of the drive and on the house.

Don't be seen, Carter had said. It wouldn't do for Steve to be caught on camera and have a warrant put out for him. Sighing, he left the gate and walked round the side of the wall to where a tree grew close on the other side. Tucking the envelopes into his waistband, he jumped up and reached the top of the 10 foot high wall, and hauled himself quickly over. As he swung over the top, he glanced around. At the far end of the street, near to his own pickup, he saw the dark car and caught a glimpse of its occupant watching him. Then he dropped down out of sight.

X X X

Five minutes later he was back at the wall, confident he had been able to deliver the envelopes without being spotted by cameras closely enough to identify him. He hauled himself back over the wall, and landed softly. A voice in his ear made him jump so much he almost lost his balance.

"Good work. You took care to do it properly. We appreciate that."

"Who are you?" Steve said gruffly.

"Max," he man said, holding out his hand.

Steve shook it. "Steve Barber. Max…?"

"For now Max will do," the man said. He had dark, curly hair and a rough moustache.

"You were following me!" Steve said.

"You certainly are observant. I took care to hang back. We will benefit from your help. Come to my car, we mustn't be seen here."

Steve followed Max back to the dark car parked near to his. He guessed Max was part of the gang he was investigating. He didn't know who else it could be. He was acutely aware of the gap on his hip where his gun usually sat. He felt uneasy without it, but couldn't wear it for the purposes of his disguise.

Inside the car, Max spoke again. "I was asked to follow you to observe how you did the task you had been set. I was impressed, you were aware of the dangers and took care to make sure you went undetected. My report on you will be favourable."

"Your report to who?" Steve asked.

Max smiled. "All in good time. I understand from Carter you are keen to get more involved."

"Yeah, I can see the money potential. And I am keen to get the wealth in this city shared out a bit. It's not fair that a few rich guys have it all."

Max shrugged. "I agree. It's unlikely the people we hit will even miss what they give us."

"So what can I do next?" Steve asked.

"You do the same as the rest of us," Max said. "We wait for Mr Haughton-Handley's response."


	3. Chapter 3

Steve headed back to his apartment to wait it out. What happened next depended on Mr Haughton-Handley's response. Max had told him that the victim had twenty-four hours to respond, and if he didn't then they would have to up the ante. Max wouldn't reveal any more details than that though.

Steve dialled Cheryl on his cell as he drove.

"Everything okay?" she asked.

"It's kicking off," Steve said. "The next victim is a Mr Haughton-Handley." He gave her the address. "Can you do some background on him, find a bit of info, but only from your desk. I don't want anyone to notice the police sniffing around."

"Sure thing," she replied. "I thought you spent hours in the library doing this though."

"This hit was researched before I got here," Steve said ruefully.

"I'll do it, so we're prepared," Cheryl promised.

Back at his apartment, Steve fixed a meal for dinner and sat in front of the television again. He watched a film for a while, but still couldn't concentrate. The boredom was making him tired, and for lack of anything better to do he headed to bed.

X X X

Despite his apprehension about the job ahead, he slept well, waking when the sun was high in the sky. After eating some toast for breakfast, it was once again into the waiting game. Steve would have loved to get out of the horrible apartment but dared not in case the phone rang. So there he sat, checking the clock. He imagined the waves hitting the shore by the beach house and felt a longing for his surfboard, or anything that would keep him active. But he had to stay by the phone.

It was dark before the phone rang. It was Max.

"No dice, he's not bitten. We've got to do something that'll grasp his attention even more."

"What?" Steve asked.

"Sorry man, you're not in the loop on this one. We'll give you a call when it's happened. We've got all the man power we need for the minute."

Steve sank back into his couch in disappointment.

X X X

Jesse stretched his arms above his head and winced as he felt a joint click. It was the end of another long shift, and he had promised his friend Nathan that he would check up on him. He had a nasty flu type virus that was persisting.

He got into his car and drove away from the hospital, glad that he didn't have to work at Bob's later. Perhaps if I'm not too long, I could even pop into Amanda's and join them for dessert. The thought cheered him up and he turned on the radio to keep him company on the half hour drive to Nathan's residence. Soon he was pulling up outside.

There was a van parked across the street; the logo on its side read "Wish Wash Window Cleaners". Window cleaning in the dark? Jesse thought. Perhaps the person who works for them lived here. But it was a rich area, it seemed unlikely that someone living on this street would clean windows for a living. Nathan's apartment was small but luxurious. Jesse wasn't sure where he'd got the money from. He had a good job but was still in his early twenties. Jesse suspected his parents were rich.

He had earlier had a message from Nathan to say that he was going to leave the door unlocked so Jesse could just walk in. It was. "Nath?" Jesse called as he entered, and heard his friend calling from upstairs.

"Why don't you have some lights on?" Jesse asked. "Your whole place is dark."

"Hey bro," Nathan said with a weak smile from his reclined position on the bed. It was a running joke between them that they could be brothers; Nathan shared a similar build and the same blondish hair as the young doctor. "Reading makes me tired, and the television gives me a headache. I don't really need the lights for anything."

"Do they hurt your eyes at all?" Jesse asked, switching on a small lamp and checking Nathan's eyes with a penlight.

"Nah, don't worry. I'm just feeling too lousy to want to do anything."

Jesse checked his friend thoroughly, but there was little he could do. "You've just got to wait for the bug to pass I'm afraid," he said. "It's a nasty one though."

"Don't I know it," Nathan said wearily. He closed his eyes.

Seeing that his friend only wanted to rest and not make small talk, Jesse bid him goodbye. "Drink plenty of fluids," was his parting advice.

He let himself out, closing the door behind him. On returning to his car he heard a voice hail him. "Hey man, can you lend me a hand?"

Jesse looked about and saw a man in a check shirt and jeans bending over one of the rear tyres on the window cleaning van he had noticed earlier. "What's up?" he called, keen to get away and get some dinner.

The man straightened up. "I got a nail in the damn tyre. I wanna change it before it blows. Could you help me?"

Never one to pass someone by if they needed help, Jesse joined the man over by the van. "What can I do?"

"Can you find the jack? It's in the back of the van somewhere."

Jesse opened the rear doors and spotted the jack near the far end of the van. He climbed in and reached for it. As he did he heard movement behind him, and turned in time to see two shadowy figures silhouetted by the streetlamps outside. They closed the van doors behind them. Jesse saw one of them draw his arm back and he crouched in a futile effort to protect himself. He only managed to let out a muffled yell before he felt a blinding pain in the side of his head and it all went black.

X X X

Steve didn't receive another call until the following lunchtime. Someone, he thought perhaps Greg, abruptly told him to get to the industrial unit. He eagerly set off in the battered pickup, glad to be doing something.

Waiting for him in the main storeroom were Carter and Greg. A new table had been set in the middle of the floor. A large brown cardboard box was on it. Steve approached them, and they greeted him the most warmly they had done so far; that is to say they didn't glare at him.

It took Steve a moment to recognise the glint in both their eyes. He had seen it too many times before. It was the adrenaline and thrill found when people were feeling the effects of power. He felt a slight sense of dread at what might have been done last night and what awaited him on the table. These guys looked like they felt pretty invincible.

"Max said you did well last night," Carter began. "Mr Haughton-Handley certainly got the message. It's a shame he didn't want to act on it."

Steve had learned enough by now to know not to be too inquisitive. He stayed silent and was rewarded.

"So we kidnapped his son," Greg blurted out, as if it was a secret he just couldn't keep any longer.

Steve felt shocked; the gang hadn't gone as far as kidnap before, not of people. He changed his expression to one of glee, hoping they hadn't noticed his initial dismay. "That should get his attention!" he said, grinning and hoping he looked pleased. "So where is he?"

"I know, I know, you want to get in on the action," Carter said, satisfied with Steve's reaction to the news. "But I'm afraid the boss wants to see one last demonstration of your loyalty. You do this one last job for us, and you can join us entertaining the captive."

Steve felt a tremor of revulsion; he hoped they weren't harming the son. His expression this time must have been more apparent, because Greg jumped in saying, "hey, we're not fags, we're not doing anything bad to him. And don't worry, he's not a kid, he's twenty or something."

Steve's worries were relieved a little, though not much. He had been imagining a small child tied up and crying for his daddy. That would have been extremely tough to deal with. Knowing it was an adult was a little easier somehow.

"That's cool," he said. "So what do I have to do?"

"The boss wants you to start on a second person. He reckons this will be a quick one, it will get the guy's attention all right. We're getting quite a reputation now," Carter said proudly. "The rich people know we aren't greedy, if they pay us we stop right there and move on to the next person. It's working in our favour, they are paying up faster now. Except for Mr Haughton-Handley. He's not playing ball." He stopped, looking irritated.

"So who's the hit?" Steve asked. It was hard work getting to the point with these people.

"Mr Brown," Carter said, waving a thin file in the air. "He's got a little daughter, right cute she is too." He opened the file and showed Steve a picture. "Kaitlyn."

Steve looked down at the photo of an angelic looking girl of around eight years.

Carter paused a moment to let the image sink in. Then he indicated the box on the table. Greg opened it and carefully pulled out a smaller box from inside. It was emblazoned with the words "Mr Brown. A gift from a grateful client."

Greg very gently opened the top flap and lifted it to show Steve the contents. Inside was a box of explosives with wires coming out of it. A digital timer on the top was counting down time in bright red digits. Steve took a step back. "That's a live bomb! Are you mad?"

"Don't worry, Wilson here is an expert," Carter said with a grin, patting Greg on the back. Steve had to admit, it did look a professional bomb. He was still very wary of being in its vicinity though. Greg resealed the box and placed it inside a gift bag.

"What we want you to do," Carter continued, "is give the bag to little Kaitlyn when she comes out of school, and tell her to give it to her father. We figure that will get his attention."

Steve stared back, trying to hide his rising anger, but unable to think of a word to say.


	4. Chapter 4

"Let me get this straight," he managed finally, "you want me to give this live bomb to a little girl?"

"Not to kill her," Carter said. "Just as a scare."

"It's got hours before it goes off," Greg said. "They'll get the bomb squad in as soon as they see it, with plenty of time to play with. No one will get hurt."

"But it could go off accidentally! She might forget to give the 'gift' to her father!" Steve knew he wasn't acting how his character should be but he was too shocked to be able to control his emotions. He could not contemplate the idea of handing a child a live, ticking bomb. It went against his whole character, no matter what undercover assignment he was on.

Greg and Carter exchanged a glance, and Steve got a hold of himself. "It's just… I didn't think we wanted to hurt anyone. I just thought we threatened people with something they didn't want others to know about, you know, nothing that would cause real harm. This is crossing into a whole new area," he finished lamely.

There was a pause, then Carter spoke up. "We don't want to hurt anyone. And this isn't going to. Can you imagine the shock of the guy, his daughter has been given a bomb and he couldn't do anything about it. He'll pay up straight away. And no one will have been hurt."

"Things go wrong… I'm not doubting your expertise Greg," Steve said hastily. "But accidents happen. What if she drops it? I was never in this for murder."

Greg sighed. Carter said, "We can't stick to the same blackmailing tactics the whole way through. They lose impact, and it makes it boring for us. This is a tough task, but it will be the worst you have to do. The boss is really testing you with this. You do this, and he will know you are willing to do whatever he throws at you, and he will trust you. We aren't turning to violent strategies. They won't all be this controversial."

"I get it," Steve said grimly. "I'm in."

"Besides," Greg piped up. "Just think of the adrenaline rush you'll feel after having the nerve to do this. It's a great feeling."

Steve smiled weakly. "I bet," he said, hoping he sounded convincing, because inside he felt nothing but utter revulsion towards people who would endanger the life of an innocent girl and possibly her whole family in this way.

"She leaves school in three hours," Carter said. "Catch her at the gates. The address is in the file with her photo." He passed it to Steve. "You want to come back and get the bomb then?"

"No, I'll take it now," Steve said. "You said it's safe, right? Well, it can sit in my apartment for a coupla hours. I don't want you to get the wrong idea about me from what I said just now. I'm not chicken."

"We didn't have you down as one," said Carter. "It's a big job, you needed a moment to get your head round it. So, if you don't screw up, we'll introduce you to our hostage."

"I'll see you later," Steve said, picking up the box containing the gift bag and walking back outside to his pickup.

X X X

Mark took the opportunity of a slight lull to lean against the wall and take a deep breath. The day had been hectic, as he had been trying to cover his rounds and those of Jesse, who had not turned up that morning. He checked his watch. The young doctor was five hours overdue. It wasn't like him at all. Mark had started his rounds without too much concern, expecting to see Jesse at any moment. However, he hadn't turned up, and Mark had been too busy to do anything about it other than ask a nurse to give him a call. There had been no answer on his cell phone or at his apartment. Mark was now worried.

Amanda had been rushed off her feet too, as the ER had been more busy than usual that morning. She came down the corridor and saw Mark. "No word?" she asked.

Mark shook his head. "It's not like him, Amanda. Jesse's always here, or he'd let us know. When did you last speak to him?"

"I guess it was yesterday, during his shift. He was going to visit a friend of his."

"Yes, that's right," Mark remembered. "Someone ought to go over to his apartment and see if we can find him."

"Dr Martin and Dr Evans have just arrived early for their shifts to help us out, and things have calmed down anyway," Amanda informed him. "Why don't we go now? We're due a break."

"Yes," said Mark, grateful for the suggestion. He was probably over-reacting, but he had a bad feeling. He had too much pent-up worry anyway with Steve being undercover, and it was spilling over into concern over his friend. Or so he hoped.

X X X

Inside, Steve's thoughts were in turmoil. He knew there was no way he could give a live bomb to a little girl, but it was important he do this mission so that he could get on with his real assignment, finding out who was behind the gang he now worked for. And now, on top of that, he had a captive to worry about. Although he had had nothing to do with the kidnap, he had been involved in part of the attack on Mr Haughton-Handley, and he felt that in some way the kidnapping was due to his actions.

Taking the bomb now had nothing to do with putting on a show of bravado for Carter and Greg. He didn't want it anywhere near him, let alone sitting next to him at his apartment for three hours. He didn't share Carter's trust in Greg's bomb making abilities. Steve planned to take the bomb to the police station and get it swapped for a completely harmless fake replacement.

He indicated to take a right and checked his mirror. A few cars behind he saw a familiar dark car weave back out of view. Damn! Steve thought. It's Max. He's making sure I do the job properly. He was filled with panic for a moment. I am not giving this live bomb to the girl, he said firmly. But if I do anything else, I'll either blow my cover or if I just dump the package somewhere, Max will report that I haven't done it and I won't get any further with infiltrating the gang.

After a few moments of agonising indecision, Steve picked up his cell phone and dialled Cheryl as he drove.

"I can't talk long," he said as she picked up. He was afraid Max might get suspicious if he saw Steve making a call. "Meet me at my apartment with someone who knows how to disarm a bomb, right now. Only no marked cars on the street, you've got to be inside when I arrive and not be seen. I'm being followed."

"At your apartment?" Cheryl said uncertainly.

"Did you get that?" Steve said.

"I got it Steve. We'll be there in fifteen minutes." Cheryl picked up on the urgency in Steve's voice and needed no further explanation. Steve was glad she was the one backing him up on this assignment.

X X X

When he arrived twenty five minutes later he was glad to see no sign that anything looked different near his building. He had been worried that the captain might not have been happy that Steve was apparently taking a bomb into an apartment complex. Steve was less than happy about it himself, but he had been unable to see an alternative. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Max park up, and he took the box gingerly under his arm and entered the building. The box under his arm more than preoccupied him from the smell on the stairs and he climbed up to his room without holding his breath.

Outside his door he was intensely relieved to see Cheryl and a guy called Robert who he had met around the station.

"What's going on?" she asked, concerned.

"When we go inside you must be silent. It might be bugged," Steve warned them, then he explained his predicament in a whisper. "I want you to make the bomb fully safe," he told Robert. "But it needs to still look live, still counting down the time. Can you do that?"

"I'll have a go," Robert said, taking the box from Steve. Steve opened the door and they went inside. He and Cheryl stood off to one side to give Robert room, and they conversed by writing comments in Cheryl's police notebook and passing it back and forth. Steve turned on the TV to drown out excess noise.

Robert was an expert, and it only took him fifteen minutes before he turned round and put his thumbs up. "Well made, but simple," he scrawled on a piece of paper.

"Thanks. Go out a back way," Steve wrote back, observing the red numbers ticking down with a sense of relief now. The difficult job was far from over, but at least now no one, including himself, could get hurt.

X X X

"Jesse?" Amanda called, knocking on his front door. There was no answer.

Mark checked over his shoulder, and pulled an instrument from his jacket pocket. "I'm sure he wouldn't mind," he said, and quickly picked the lock on the front door. They went inside.

"No sign of him," Mark said after they had checked every room.

"His bed is made, but that doesn't mean he didn't sleep in it, just that he made it this morning," Amanda said. "There's no trace of him."

"Do you know the friend he was going to visit yesterday?" Mark asked. "We could check that he turned up there. It will give us more of an idea of when he went missing."

"No," said Amanda. "He mentioned the name Nathan, but I don't know where he lives."

Mark went over to the desk. He quickly found a book with addresses written in. He flicked through the pages. "Only one Nathan," he said triumphantly after a moment. "Nathan Haughton-Handley. I'm going over to visit him."

Amanda checked her watch. "I'd better get back to the hospital. There's plenty of work waiting for me in the lab. But let me know what you find."

"I will," Mark promised.

X X X

Steve had been sitting in his car near the school gates for half an hour. He had checked out the area. According to the file, Kaitlyn was always picked up late as the childminder had to drive across from her brother's school a few miles away. She always stood outside with a friend, which was when Steve should approach to deliver the package.

Steve realised that in all the drama over the bomb he had forgotten to tell Cheryl that Mr Haughton-Handley's son had been kidnapped. He was too wound up to call her now though. It would have to wait until later.

He heard a school bell ring distantly and watched as children started to file out of the school, most of them climbing onto school buses. He felt a knot of tension in his stomach and a cold clammy sweat had broken out. It wasn't that he was nervous about doing the task. It was that he still felt sickened by what he had to do, even though the bomb was now safe. He hated to cause a family the amount of upset he knew his 'present' would cause. Imagine if his father brought home a package that turned out to be a bomb. Steve could barely comprehend the anger he would feel. He could feel his temper rising at the mere thought of it. And now he had to give a bomb to a young girl.

He shook his head and tried to put all these thoughts to one side. He had to do this, for the purposes of the assignment. There was no point in dwelling on it. But deep down, he knew that this act would haunt him long after the assignment was finished and the gang were in jail.

I'm going to get them, he thought determinedly. Every last one of them. Locked up for a long time.

The photo of Kaitlyn Brown was inside the folder on the passenger seat next to him. Steve could sense it as if it was glaring at him accusingly. He saw a girl stop outside the gates and checked the photo. It was her. She sat down and started to play with some marbles she produced from a pocket. Soon the friend joined her and they played together as the crowds of school children dissipated around them.

After fifteen minutes the two girls were the only people in sight outside the school gates. It was now or never. Steve pulled on a pair of sunglasses and a hat that covered his hair. He was sure Cheryl would be able to bury a photo-fit of him if the girls managed to describe him accurately, but he wanted to make it as hard as possible.

He got out of the car and approached the girls. "Are you Kaitlyn?" he asked.

They looked up at him. "Yes," Kaitlyn answered.

"I'm a friend of your father's," he said. "I work with him. He's been very good to me recently and I wanted to give him a present. Would you give it to him for me?"

Kaitlyn looked at the bag and shrugged. "Sure," she said. "What is it?"

"Ah now, it's a surprise for your father. Don't open it now, will you?" said Steve.

"Okay," said Kaitlyn.

Steve gave her the bag containing the bomb and walked away. I hate myself, he thought.


	5. Chapter 5

Mark checked the house number for Jesse's friend Nathan again as he drove along the street. The afternoon was passing and it was almost a full day since anyone had spoken to Jesse.

He drew his car up outside the address and stared in surprise. Two police cars were outside, as well as an expensive looking Mercedes. Mark got out and went up the path. A police officer stopped him. "Can I ask who you are looking for, sir?" he asked.

"I wanted to see Nathan Haughton-Handley," Mark said. "What's going on here?"

"What did you want him for?" the officer asked suspiciously. He grabbed Mark by the arm as if Mark might try to run away. Mark looked back with surprise.

A plain clothes policeman appeared from the front door. "Mark!" he exclaimed. Mark was relieved to see a familiar face; he recognised the man as someone Steve had worked with before on cases.

"Hello, Jim," Mark said. "What's going on? I came looking for Nathan."

Jim looked at him. "Come inside. I don't know what's brought you over here but as you can probably tell something has happened."

Mark followed Jim inside. Mark saw a pale and not very healthy-looking young man sitting at the kitchen table, with an older gentleman seated next to him. There were about three policemen inside.

Jim pulled him to one side into the lounge across the hall. "It's a bit odd really," he said. "Mr Haughton-Handley Senior got a sinister phone call about an hour ago saying that his son had been kidnapped and they were holding him to ransom. He has until tomorrow at 9am to drop five million dollars at a certain location if he wants his son back. Of course, he called the police straight away. Mr Haughton-Handley is worth a lot, between you and me, and he didn't doubt the threat. But when we arrived here to look for evidence, the son, Nathan, was here quite all right, and knew nothing of any fuss. So we're guessing it's just a crank."

"Didn't Mr Haughton-Handley call his son before he called you?" Mark asked, peering over Jim's shoulder into the kitchen.

"Yes, but there was no answer. Nathan thinks it must have been while he was in the shower. But why are you here?"

"I was looking for a friend of mine. He didn't turn up for his shift this morning at the hospital. I know he planned to visit Nathan last night, so I came to see if he had done so," Mark said.

"Come and ask him," said Jim.

Mark went into the kitchen. Nathan looked up as he approached and Mark was struck by Nathan's blond hair and short frame. He looked very similar to… "It's not a crank," Mark said quietly, stopping in his tracks as the realisation hit him.

"Huh?" Jim said.

"I'm a friend of Jesse's," Mark said, quickly taking a seat next to Nathan. "He visited you last night, didn't he?"

"Yeah," said Nathan. "He didn't stay long though. He…" His voice trailed off as he grasped what must have happened. "Oh my God, he looks like me. He let himself in and out of here because I was in bed. They must have thought…"

Mark turned to Jim. "Jesse and Nathan look very similar. Nathan is still here, but Jesse has been missing, and no one has seen him since last night. It is pretty obvious what must have happened. The kidnappers think they have Mr Haughton-Handley's son Nathan, but instead they have Jesse." Mark felt a chill creep up his spine at the thought of Jesse being at the hands of ruthless kidnappers, but pushed the emotions aside. He would think about it later.

Jim's eyes widened.

Suddenly Mr Haughton-Handley Senior sat up straight. "Listen! In all my concern about my son, I forgot. I received some letters trying to blackmail me, threatening to ruin my business. I ignored them, but they were probably linked. They're in my briefcase somewhere." He reached for it.

After a brief rummage he produced two brown envelopes and pushed them across the table to Jim. "They are identical," he said.

Jim opened them and glanced over the contents. "I recognise the style," he said. "This is from a group who has been staging extremely well researched blackmail scams across LA for some time. I must ring Cheryl," he finished, with a look at Mark.

Mark understood straight away. This must be the people that Steve was working undercover with. Anxiety hit him like a wave, and thoughts rushed through his head. He had thought Steve was working with people who were doing wrong, but were essentially non-violent and not doing things to endanger the lives of others. But it seemed that now they had stepped up to kidnapping, which always involved a level of violence. It sounded like Steve was in a more dangerous situation than Mark had expected.

Not only was his son caught up with these criminals, but now one of his best friends was too. Still, if Steve was there then he could protect Jesse, couldn't he? Although that might threaten his cover. Or what if Jesse said something that broke Steve's cover? He probably wouldn't realise Steve playing a role; if he saw Steve he would probably think he was being rescued. Mark put that thought aside, it was too large a worry and he couldn't do anything about it. Jesse would most likely be fine, Mark realised, Steve could tell them it was the wrong guy. Mark was sure he could do it without breaking his cover. But then they would have no use for Jesse. Who knows what they would do then. Mark's thoughts see-sawed back and forth.

"We must make them believe they have the correct person," Mark blurted out to Cheryl as soon as she arrived. He explained that if they realised otherwise Jesse may be in danger.

Cheryl understood. "I'll explain to Steve," she said. "I don't think he knows they have captured Jesse. He's not infiltrated that far into the group yet, Mark," she said, and regretted it as she saw the doctor's face drop as he knew that Steve wouldn't be watching out for Jesse.

"I'll ring him now," said Cheryl, and she turned away and dialled on her cell phone. A minute later, she turned back. "There's no answer," she said. "I daren't leave a message in case someone else picks it up. I'll keep trying," she promised. She thought for a moment, but decided not to tell Mark about the bomb. Best that he didn't know about that one for now.

A police officer entered the kitchen. "There's no sign of Dr Travis's car," he said.

"He definitely came in it, I heard it draw up outside," Nathan said.

"We'll put out an APB on it," Cheryl said. "But it looks like these guys are pretty thorough. They probably took it with them. The neighbours?" she enquired of the officer.

"Nobody saw a thing," the man said. "It must have been very quiet, and very quick."

Mark sat back in his chair, feeling extreme frustration that he could do nothing to help Jesse or Steve out of their difficult situation. Worries of what might happen came back to circle round in his head, and he couldn't stop himself thinking out all the what-ifs. Shaking his head to clear the concerning thoughts, he got out his phone and dialled Amanda.


	6. Chapter 6

After delivering the bomb, Steve drove back to the warehouse unit. Inside the main room Max was waiting for him. He extended a hand, which Steve shook. On the drive back Steve had shelved his real thoughts about the bomb task in the back of his mind to worry about at a later time, and had got himself into character. He grinned at Max and said, "What a buzz!"

"Yeah man," Max said. "You did that well. Hopefully we'll get payback from that soon, and you'll be in for a big cut of it."

There was an echoing clang as a door opened. Steve looked up and saw two people appearing though the door at the top of the stairs and walking down the metal staircase towards them. One was Greg, but the other man was unfamiliar. Steve felt a surge of expectation. If this new guy was the main man in charge, once Steve had seen that he was involved then his job was done. He could call in the backup and be back home in no time.

Max followed his gaze. "Greg Wilson you know, of course," he said. "This here is Vincent Harley."

Steve shook hands with Harley, who met his gaze with a nod of his head.

"Harley and Wilson are our skilled kidnappers – excellent at getting the job done with minimum of fuss, hey boys?" Max said with a smile.

"Absolutely," said Greg. Steve sensed a subtle change in Greg's attitude towards him and presumed that by showing his willingness to get his hands dirty with something very risky he had earned a significant amount of respect from these guys.

"So are you the boss?" he asked Harley.

Harley laughed. "Ha, I wish. Nah, he doesn't show his face here that much. He just gives us the main instructions. We do a lot ourselves – he's made sure we're good at what we have to do and he can trust us."

Steve hid his disappointment. His job wasn't over yet. He had to identify the person in charge of the whole operation or it would just carry on, with different people or in a different state, but the blackmailing would continue. And he was determined that this wouldn't happen.

"So," Max said, and Steve noticed that the three of them were looking at him expectantly. "I bet you've been dying to meet our hostage. He's quite a character, keeps insisting he's not who we think he is. But you know how well we research our targets. We don't make mistakes."

"Where is he?" asked Steve.

"Upstairs," Greg said. The four walked together over to the stairs and through the doorway at the top of them. Upstairs a corridor ran what appeared to be the length of the building. Four doors led off it. Outside the second one along Carter stood, as if on guard. Steve's sharp eyes noticed that he had a pistol tucked into his waistband. The door standing behind him was locked with a padlock and a couple of large bolts.

"Hey Steve," Carter said, greeting him warmly. He pulled the bolts back and produced a key from his pocket for the padlock. "We've not had a hostage before, it's pretty cool. I keep wanting to take a peek at him, just to remind myself that we dared to do it. We can ask more money for something like this. Keeps us on our toes too," he said, swinging the padlock free. "We should forget threatening to reveal affairs, this is the way to go," Carter finished, looking at the others.

Greed, thought Steve. These people hadn't started off violent. Just some simple, if unethical, blackmail. But desire for more money, larger amounts, and the adrenaline rush from taking dares made them gradually more violent and ruthless. All of them were delighted at having a captive, someone completely under their control.

Carter swung the door open, and Greg and Harley stepped through, followed by Steve. The room beyond was lit by a single bare strip light. There was no natural light, and Steve saw that the window had been boarded up. There was no furniture, but a jug of water and some dirty plates were standing by the door. The floor was covered with cheap office carpet.

Steve looked about. At first Greg's frame was covering his view, but then he spotted a figure huddled against the far wall. He was curled into a ball, with face hidden from view. His hands were bound tightly with blue cord in front of him and his clothes were dishevelled.

As the men stepped forward into the room, and the door clanged shut behind them, the sad figure on the floor lifted his head and looked up.

As Steve looked at the face looking up at them the world seemed to slow. He felt like he was walking through water, and even the sounds he heard sounded muffled. It was _Jesse_. How could this happen? He felt his hands curl into fists as fury coursed through his body.

Jesse hadn't noticed him at first but when his eyes landed upon Steve his eyes lit up with recognition and a grin threatened to break out on his face. Luckily the other men hadn't noticed Jesse's expression as their attentions were focused on Steve.

Steve quickly put a sneer on his face and growled, "So this is the rich kid? He doesn't look rich to me, he looks weedy." He shot a look of contempt at Jesse and aimed a kick at his shoe.

The expressions that flicked across the exhausted face of his friend felt like bullets through Steve's heart. Confusion, hurt, then realisation that Steve was not here to save him, at least not yet, and his ordeal wasn't over. Steve could hear his heartbeat thudding in his ears as he struggled to control his emotions.

Oblivious to the hidden anguish being experienced by their new colleague, Greg and Vincent Harley exchanged pleased grins with each other. "You don't need muscles to have money. The opposite, money makes you lazy," Greg said.

"He's been here how long now, twenty-four hours?" Steve asked.

"Near enough. Daddy's got until tomorrow morning to deliver the cash. Nathan's got another night with us yet."

"And that is your name, sunshine," Harley said, crouching down close to Jesse. "You stopped trying to convince us otherwise now? We're not falling for it."

Jesse said nothing, but he looked up at Steve with a look of desperation. Steve looked away; he couldn't bear to meet his friend's gaze. He hated to think of what Jesse must have been going through.

Feeling that more of a reaction was probably expected of him, Steve indicated the plates and jug of water. "You've been feeding him then?" he said. "That's pretty kind of you, isn't it?" Out of the corner of his eye he saw a look of panic cross Jesse's face. He could imagine what he was thinking: W_hat are you doing? Don't give them ideas!_ But he couldn't risk his cover and newly gained trust by not joining in with the gang.

Harley looked affronted. "Hey, we're not cruel. Keeps him quiet anyways. We only want the money, we don't care about anything else. Gotta keep up a fair reputation."

But you keep him tied up in a room with no furniture. You captured him against his will. And you're not cruel? Steve wished he could say these things aloud, but instead he shrugged. "Yeah, best to keep a clear conscience."

Greg and Harley laughed and nodded agreement. Steve didn't see the humor. He wanted to get out of the room, away from Jesse's reproachful gaze. Better yet, away from the warehouse so he could call Cheryl and fill her in. He wished he could talk to Jesse alone, to explain himself and reassure his friend, but there was no chance of that at the moment. Hoping Jesse understood, he sighed loudly. "Well he's kinda boring really," he said. "I'm hungry, I'm gonna go back to my place and fix some food."

"Sure man," Greg said. "But you've got a slot of guard duty tonight. As our new recruit you draw the short straw of 3am."

"Hell, not much sleep for me tonight," said Steve, pulling a face, but secretly delighted. He might get a chance to speak to Jesse. "Is it just me?"

"Fraid so, though you'll have this wretch for company. Don't worry, we'll give you the gun. We're a small outfit, not enough of us for companionship on jobs. You've probably realised we each work separately on most things. Makes it harder for the cops to trace us."

"Good thinking," said Steve. "It's just you and me then kid," he pointed at Jesse, and watched a glimmer of hope pass over his face. It was quickly gone and Steve was pleased and proud of his friend as he saw him put up a terrified face instead.

"Now, play nice," Harley laughed, but Steve sensed from his tone that he didn't really mean it.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Thanks very much to my reviewers!

_Chapter 7_

Back at Nathan Haughton-Handley's house, plans were being made to move Nathan to another location. Mark had reasoned that it could turn bad for Jesse if the gang found out he wasn't the son of William Haughton-Handley, and so had offered Nathan a room at his beach house. Nathan was still recovering from his illness and the chance of a stay by the beach with nothing to do but relax and take things easy was very appealing. Wearing a hoodie and dark glasses, and acting a slouch, just in case anyone happened to be watching, including nosy neighbours, Nathan climbed into Mark's car and was transported away.

William Haughton-Handley was prepared to go along with the pretence. If the kidnappers contacted him he would sound upset and beg for longer in which to deliver the money.

Mark had tried persuading Cheryl to release money to satisfy the kidnappers, as past experiences showed that they would probably honour their word and return their captive on receipt of the money. Cheryl had laughed and said that the police station would never have that amount of money available for something like that. "I'm convinced they're not murderers," she told Mark. "They just want the money. If Mr Haughton-Handley doesn't cough up tomorrow morning, they will probably just up the threat, but I'm sure Jesse and Steve will be fine for a little longer."

"Why can't you just go in and get them?" Mark asked, but he already knew the answer. He just hated to risk the safety of his son and friend in order to catch the criminals. But he knew it had to be done.

"As soon as Steve has identified the ringleader, he will get in touch with me at the first opportunity," Cheryl said. "That's the plan. Then we'll move in. Until then, we risk ruining the whole operation."

So now Mark was showing Nathan around the beach house, but his heart wasn't in it, and his hospitality was lacking its usual shine.

X X X

It was seven in the evening before Steve reached his grubby apartment. He hadn't noticed anyone following him home, but to make sure he went up to his room, turned the lights and TV on, and then exited the building by the rear fire escape and dialled Cheryl. He noticed that he had a missed call from her.

She answered quickly. "Steve! I'm so glad you've rung. I've got something to tell you−"

"Jesse," he interrupted flatly.

Cheryl paused. "You know?"

Steve knew she was imagining the circumstances in which he may have found out and that she knew something about how he must have felt. "How did it happen?" he said, something he had been wondering all the way home. How did his best friend end up at the hands of blackmailers who were convinced he was someone else?

Cheryl quickly filled him in on how the mistake had been made, and why Mark had thought it important that the gang still believed they had the right man. "You didn't give it away, did you?" she asked anxiously.

"No," said Steve, running his hand over his hair with a deep breath as he relived the moment he had walked into the room and seen his friend. "I knew it was important not to, and I knew I needed to think things through. I covered it up. But Cheryl, it was one hell of a shock."

"Yeah, I bet," she sympathised. "We want to get you both out of there as soon as we can. This is getting more complex than we anticipated."

"You're telling me," Steve mumbled.

"Do you have any idea yet who the main guy is or where he can be found?"

"None," said Steve with exasperation. "Vincent Harley, he's a new guy I met just now, he said the main guy keeps his distance. I'm getting there, Cheryl. I'm meeting new members of the team every day. But now there's a bigger urgency, like a ticking bomb. I take it Mr Haughton-Handley isn't going to have paid up tomorrow?"

"No," Cheryl said. "Do you know what they'll do?"

"They don't seem to have a plan at the moment. They are just riding on the high that they're getting from having had such nerve to kidnap someone. I dread to think," Steve said. He forced himself to imagine the worst. "Not murder," he said. "There's no money in it then. But they've got no upper limit of what they will do, I could imagine it spiralling out of control."

"Try to manage it tomorrow morning, think of a harmless next step if you can," Cheryl said. "And hang in there Steve, we'll get you both out soon."

"Thanks," he said, and went back to his apartment to find something to eat, although eating was the last thing he felt like.

X X X

He snatched a couple of hours of sleep before his alarm went off at 2am for his guard duty, but it had been hard to relax. Still, he didn't feel too tired as he dressed quickly and went downstairs to his truck. The journey was quick without the usual traffic and he got to the warehouse in good time.

Outside the door upstairs Greg was sitting in a chair, smoking a cigarette with a bottle of beer beside him. "Hey man," he said. "I'm falling asleep here. Here's the key, and the gun. There's a fridge of beer in the office downstairs. We'll be back around eight for the deadline." He winked at Steve and trudged off.

Steve sat down in the chair. It wasn't particularly comfortable but then he expected that it was intentionally this way so that he didn't fall asleep. In the distance he heard a car start up and fade into the distance; Greg had left.

Knowing he had plenty of time, he sat for thirty minutes, listening for sounds, but he heard nothing from the other side of the door or the rest of the building. Then he stood up and worked his way down the corridor, seeing what was behind the other three doors upstairs. One was empty. The next looked like a TV room, but a second glance showed Steve that the TV was displaying CCTV pictures. It was cycling round, showing the parking lot outside, the main warehouse, and the downstairs office. Surprisingly, the upstairs rooms weren't covered, and Steve could only assume that the system had been in place when the gang had rented the warehouse and they hadn't altered it to cover more area. Steve was pleased. He checked the equipment carefully to convince himself that there wasn't any kind of security system covering the room Jesse was in, but there wasn't. These guys might research their targets carefully, but they felt cocky and safe on their own turf.

The last room upstairs was a bathroom. Steve made his way downstairs and took a beer from the fridge for the look of it. He walked around the warehouse, checking that he really was alone. Greg had locked the doors behind him. Guess I really am trusted, he thought.

He returned to his guard post and set the beer down by his chair. He pulled back the bolts and opened the padlock with the key given to him by Greg. Then he opened the door and stepped inside.

There was a small lamp inside the room, sitting on the floor, giving some light, but the main lights weren't on. Jesse looked up sleepily and apprehensively as Steve stepped through. He looked like he had been asleep but woken by the sounds of the bolts being drawn. His face lit up as he saw Steve but he wisely said nothing. Steve closed the door behind him as Jesse struggled into a more upright position with his back against the wall.

Steve came over and crouched down by his friend. "It's just me," he said, keeping his voice low. "Are you okay?"

"Been better," Jesse said, but he smiled and Steve was glad to see that his spirits weren't dampened too much.

Steve looked at Jesse's wrists. The blue cord on them was tied tightly and it was digging in. The skin looked raw. "Does this hurt?" Steve asked.

Jesse nodded.

"I'll loosen it," Steve said. "But it has to stay on. I'm really sorry Jess, you don't know how sorry I am, but I can't get you out of here yet." His fingers worked at the knot on Jesse's binds.

"Am I still in LA?" Jesse asked him.

Steve looked at him in surprise. "Yeah, we are." Harley and Wilson must have kept Jesse pretty disoriented if he didn't know who he was. Presumably this was so that they could hand him back without worrying their location would be discovered.

Steve finally managed to undo the knot and gently unwound the cord. Jesse flexed his wrists and let out a low grunt as he rubbed the sore area.

"Why am I here?" Jesse asked. "They think I'm my friend Nathan."

Steve told him about the mix up with him and Nathan, and explained why they wanted Nathan, and what his own job was here. "I have to identify the man in charge, or this won't stop," he finished. "As soon as I have, we'll both get out of here. I wish I could get you away but it would ruin the whole thing. Can you stick it a bit longer?"

"Yeah," Jesse said. "They've not done anything particularly bad to me yet. If you don't count kidnap. But these guys scare me, Steve. I get the feeling they are capable of anything."

"No, they're not violent. They just want money," Steve said, but in reality he felt the same worries as Jesse.

"Do the others know I'm here? I missed my shift at the hospital. They would have been short-staffed."

Steve smiled. It was typical of his friend to be worrying about his job and his patients when he was tied up in a warehouse. "Dad found out before I did," he said. "He traced you to Nathan's house somehow. He wasn't able to let me know though. Could have saved me a shock."

There was a pause, then Jesse said, "What happens when they find out I'm not Nathan?"

"They won't," Steve said, but Jesse noticed the slight hesitation before his reply. "Nathan's hiding at the beach house. Nathan's father is going along with the pretence that they have the right guy. It'll be over soon. I'm just so sorry you have to go through this."

"Don't worry about me," Jesse said, in considerably higher spirits since talking to his friend. "I feel better knowing you are involved. At first I thought I could have been anywhere, and I was despairing at how anyone would find me. But I feel safer now."

Steve fervently hoped that his friend's trust in his abilities wasn't unfounded.

"I wish I could stay and keep you company but I'd better get back to my guard post," Steve said. "Do you need anything?"

"A bed would be nice," Jesse said longingly. "The floor is hard." He held out his wrists for Steve to bind them again. He winced as the rough cord touched the tender skin.

"Can't help you with a bed," Steve said. "And I can't have this too loose or they might get suspicious," he added regretfully.

"It's better than it was," Jesse said with a smile.

Steve left him to the empty room, carefully locking the door behind him.


	8. Chapter 8

Steve awoke with a start as he heard the distant clang of the warehouse door. He sat up quickly from his slouched position. He hadn't intended to fall asleep but the events of the last few days were taking their toll, and he must have dozed off in his chair. He hadn't gone back in to Jesse, much as he would have liked to keep him company. It was too risky as someone could have come at any time. Steve looked alert as he heard voices and footsteps climbing the metal staircase up to his floor.

The men seemed to be arguing. He could hear indignant tones.

"Does he think we won't do anything?" Vincent Harley was saying to Carter and Greg as they came through the door at the top of the stairs. He nodded to Steve. "Everything all right?"

"Yeah, not a peep out of the captive," Steve said. "What's up?"

Greg pulled a face. "Harley called Mr Two-Aitch this morning. He says he needs more time to get the money."

This wasn't a surprise to Steve but he looked put out. "Huh."

"Yeah, exactly. He sounded all upset and all, wanting his son back, please don't hurt him, I'm worried sick, but need more time," Harley snarled. "He's rich as anything, he must have the amount we're asking just sitting in the bank. I tried to persuade him anyway. He's got a couple more hours to change his mind."

"I'm taking over from you," Carter said to Steve. "You can go and get some sleep if you want."

"Are you kidding?" Steve exclaimed. "I'm hanging around for nine. See if he coughs up."

"Come downstairs," Greg said. "I brought some food for us."

Steve, Greg and Harley sat in the office eating donuts and watching the clock.

"Oh, I almost forgot," Greg Wilson said, pulling a battered envelope from his back pocket.

"Yeah, right, very convenient," Harley laughed.

Steve looked enquiringly from one to another. Greg handed him the envelope. "Pay time. Mr Brown, Kaitlyn's daddy? Well he was real convinced by our bomb. He paid up in double quick time. Here's your share."

Steve pocketed it quietly. He felt slightly sick thinking about the Browns and knew he could never spend the money.

Nine o'clock came and went. Harley and Greg looked tense. At half nine the phone rang. Harley grabbed it. He just grunted acknowledgement of what was being said on the other end of the phone, then hung up. "Max said no money was delivered. Looks like he needs a bit of convincing," he said with an unsettling smile.

"How?" Steve asked uneasily.

"Some upsetting images of his son ought to do it," Harley smirked, getting to his feet. "We need to show Mr Haughton-Handley we mean business."

Steve and Greg got to their feet and followed Harley into the main storeroom. He went over to a box and rummaged for a few seconds before producing a digital camera. He grinned at them and headed for the stairs.

Carter looked up in surprise as he saw them approaching.

"Open it," Harley ordered, standing in front of the door.

"He paid?" Carter asked, pulling the key from his pocket.

"He didn't," Steve said. "Harley is going to make some persuasive photos." He felt alarmed for Jesse, but he was waiting for an opportunity to show itself. He had to tread carefully to protect his cover.

Harley flung open the door and strode inside; the others followed. Jesse jolted upright from where he had been sitting leaning against the wall, looking startled, and Steve couldn't blame him. Harley had a nasty expression and the four of them bursting through the door must look pretty intimidating.

Harley put the camera down on the floor to one side and stood in front of Jesse, grinning down at him, hands on hips. "Who's going first?" he asked, exhilaration evident in his voice. "You," he said, grabbing Steve's arm and pulling him forward. "You throw the first couple of punches. You've earned it."

Steve felt himself pushed forward so he was standing above Jesse. Jesse looked up at him with wide eyes and a question in his expression that Steve wasn't able to respond to. This was supposed to be a reward? Even if it wasn't his friend sitting on the floor in front of him, Steve didn't think he'd ever be able to feel pleasure in beating up an innocent, tied-up person. I'd like to give Vincent Harley a few well-placed thumps, he thought angrily. How can I get out of this without threatening my cover? The pressure of ticking seconds was making Steve's mind blank and he couldn't think of a plausible solution. He was torn – his cover was in danger, but he knew that he could never hit Jesse. To actually hurt him, and cause physical and obvious injury which was what Harley was intending him to do, was unthinkable.

The moment stretched out, and Steve could feel Harley's gaze on him. He made up his mind, quickly drew back his arm, clenching his right hand into a fist. In the split-second before he started to swing his arm forwards he saw Jesse's eyes widen in horrified astonishment. His face flinched and his body tensed up. Jesse let out a strangled cry of "No!" as Steve's arm started to move in the direction of his head but then Carter called out.

"Wait!" Everyone turned to look at him, including Jesse, who was looking very relieved. Steve relaxed his arm; he had been about to hit the wall next to Jesse's head and delay the proceedings by pretending to be in pain but it was a lousy plan that he wasn't even sure would work.

"Harley…" Carter said hesitantly, "I'm not sure it's a good idea."

"What?" Harley turned to Carter with an incredulous expression.

"Has the boss authorised it?" Carter persisted. My opportunity, Steve thought. An ally. He realised managed to catch Jesse's eye as the others were watching Carter and smiled quickly at him, hoping that he was conveying that he had the situation under control. Jesse kept his face carefully blank but held Steve's gaze for a couple of seconds in silent communication.

"The boss likes us to think on our feet," Harley said, taking a step towards Carter.

"Yeah, to some degree. We don't do pointless violence though. You know the boss instructed us about that. A step as big as this, the boss would want a say."

"I didn't have you down as a chicken, Carter," Harley said.

"I'm not chicken, we've taken plenty of risks. Kidnap is bad enough. But beating up the captive, I dread to think what sentence that carries."

"Sentence?" Harley laughed. "The police know nothing about us. We're not going to get caught."

Steve felt a stab of satisfaction at that – if only you knew – as Carter replied, "Well, I'm having none of it."

"Fine, leave," Harley said. "We'll be sure to tell the judge you didn't hurt the guy."

Steve sensed it was time to step in, or he risked losing any opportunity to stop the situation. "Maybe it's better if we just fake it."

They all looked at him. "Carter's right, we might as well be careful to make ourselves as least violent as possible. Crime without force gets lighter sentences. Hell, I know, I've been there before," he added, noticing that their faces were displaying hesitation.

"I knew you must have used those muscles for something," Greg said. They seemed to accept this explanation for not wanting to be violent without considering him to be a coward, and Steve was glad. He felt incredibly tense; he was negotiating to save Jesse from a beating, which was stressful enough if he could do it in plain words, but he was having to conceal his true intentions and prevent the others from realising his true aim.

Not wanting to give them too much time to read more into his words, he went over to where Jesse was sitting on the floor, grabbed his shirt collar and yanked him to his feet roughly. Jesse gave an indignant exclamation. Steve faced the others, indicating his friend. "Look at him. He looks pathetic enough already after two days of sleeping on a floor. Some fake blood would be convincing enough for the camera."

"Yeah," Carter added in support.

Harley shrugged, looking disappointed. Greg had said little throughout the exchange, and Steve guessed he was happy to go along with whatever was decided. "Where the hell do you get fake blood?" he spoke up now.

"I'm not wasting time going out to some fancy dress store," Harley interjected before Steve could speak. "Wait here."

The others waited in silence while Harley stomped out of the room and they heard his footsteps ringing on the metal staircase in the distance. No one spoke, and Steve sensed that despite the camaraderie between them sometimes the men didn't really get on all that well. They were all here to make large amounts of money, but they weren't friends.

Harley was soon back, carrying a box. A scrabbling noise came from it. "Rat," he said by way of explanation. "It got into the trap last night." In one swift movement he pulled the gun from Carter's waistband, clicked off the safety, opened the box and fired once at the rat.

None of the others had time to react, and they all jumped as the loud sound of the shot echoed round the bare room. Harley passed the gun back to Carter, who took it mutely. Then Harley reached into the box, pulled out the bloody remains of the rat, and advanced on Jesse.

Jesse, who had been keeping silent since he knew that Steve was involved and taking care of everything, suddenly found his voice. "No way!" he yelled, backing away along the wall. "You are not touching me with that thing!"

"Man, this is gross," Harley said, but he was grinning as he said it, and obviously found the situation amusing. Carter wore an expression of distaste but Greg was enjoying the show and Steve dared not push his luck any further by intervening again. Sorry Jesse, he thought to himself. This one you've got to put up with.

Jesse had backed almost into the far corner, and Harley was matching his pace, holding the rat out in front of him. Jesse started to move along the next wall. Harley flicked the rat at him, and a shower of blood sprayed out, spattering Jesse across the face. Jesse looked like he might be sick. He brought his hands up to his face and frantically tried to rub the blood off.

"Ideal!" exclaimed Greg, and Steve had to admit that already Jesse looked like he had been beaten up, with blood smeared on his face and hands and his appalled look to match.

But Harley wasn't done. He lunged forward suddenly, brandishing the carcass. Jesse tried to back away quickly but tripped over his own feet, and Harley pounced on top of him, smearing blood over his torso and more on his face as Jesse squirmed forcefully and shouted a stream of muffled yells. Harley sat back, and admired his handiwork. Jesse raised himself onto an elbow and spat furiously at the ground, trying to get rat blood out of his mouth. "A black eye for good measure," Harley said, and viciously punched forwards with his right fist. Jesse went back with a cry and curled his arms around his head protectively.

Steve felt his muscles instinctively react and had to restrain himself from jumping forwards and giving Vincent Harley a retaliatory blow. _They had agreed, no direct violence_ – but the moment was over and there was nothing to be gained by responding now. Exhaling slowly, he noticed Carter looking at him curiously, but then Harley said "Hey, Steve and Greg, pull the wretch up and Carter can take his photo. I'm going to clean this stuff off my hands." He threw the rat back into the box and left, calling over his shoulder, "Maybe Daddy don't love you, Nathan! You better hope he pays up this time."

Steve jerked Jesse roughly to his feet as Greg grabbed his other arm. Jesse met Steve's gaze accusingly and Steve felt terrible. The skin around Jesse's eye was already going purple across a large area and the eye was swelling up. Coupled with the blood that, although not Jesse's, was a disgusting thing to have all over him, he looked utterly terrible. Steve wondered what his father would think if he saw the photos, and hoped that he wouldn't.

Steve and Greg stepped back out of shot and Carter snapped several shots on the camera. Jesse looked sullen and Steve's guilt grew. Jesse would have expected Steve to protect him better than this. Probably so would his father and Amanda. He was going to have a lot to answer to. I just hope it's sooner rather than later, he thought. We've got to get out of here.

The three men left Jesse in the room, locking it behind them. Steve noticed Carter's gaze on him again so deliberately didn't look back at Jesse. They went to the office downstairs and Carter printed off the photos and placed them in an envelope. "Right, here you go, Greg," he said. "Deliver these. When you return we can call Mr Haughton-Handley again and reiterate our demands." Greg left with the envelope, and Steve heard his vehicle start up outside.


	9. Chapter 9

Carter turned on a small television set that was in the corner of the office, and he and Steve sat watching it. Steve mulled over the last hour's events in his mind. He hadn't brought up the kinder plan himself, Carter had, and he had backed him. But the looks he had received from Carter were worrying him. Had something he had said had made Carter suspicious of him? What if the situation had been another test, to assess his mettle? If so, he didn't do very well. He might have passed one test by not letting Jesse go overnight. Surely that would have proved his worth? But Steve made up his mind to watch himself even more carefully.

Harley joined them in the office, wiping his hands on a towel, all evidence of blood gone. He had changed his shirt. Just then the phone rang. Carter reached over and picked up the receiver without moving his gaze from the TV. "Yeah? … Okay." He reached over and pushed the speaker phone button.

Max's voice emitted from the speaker. "Hey guys, I've got some news."

Steve muted the TV and they leaned forward expectantly.

"What do you make of this: Mr Haughton-Handley has gone to work."

Harley gave a loud exclamation. "He did? Only a couple of hours ago he was sobbing into the phone worried sick about his son."

"My thoughts too. I've been observing him for a while. He works in a huge glass fronted building. Makes my job easy, I can watch him from the car. He's strolling around, laughing with the secretaries. The guy looks like he hasn't got a care in the world."

"Something's not right there," Carter said. Steve gritted his teeth. It was all very well hiding the real Nathan Haughton-Handley but the father needed to go along with the plan too, and not just on the telephone. He probably didn't imagine anyone would be following him.

"Hold on," Max's voice said, sounding alert suddenly. "Someone's just been shown into his office. It's a guy I've seen before. He went to his house yesterday. He wasn't someone we identified when we did research on Mr H."

"Cop?" suggested Harley.

"Nah, he's too old to be a cop. He's got white hair, with a moustache to match." Steve felt his blood run cold. No! Max was talking about his father. He didn't want Mark to be involved in this too. It was bad enough that Jesse was caught up in it. But of course his father was involved if he and Jesse were.

"Follow him," Harley was saying. "Call us back if you find anything out. Greg's delivering some photos to his home address."

"Okay," Max said. "Oh, looks like he's leaving already. I'll call later." The line cut off.

"Looks like it's a waiting game again," Steve said, getting to his feet. "Well, I'm beat, I'm going to go back to my apartment for some shut-eye."

"You better stay here," Carter said, eyes on the TV still.

"What's the point?" Steve asked uncertainly. Inside, his brain was telling him to get out of the warehouse so he could call his father and warn him about Max tailing him and advise him not to go back to the beach house. "We could be waiting hours. I want some sleep."

"Something's going on," Carter said, turning to face him. "Something out of the ordinary. I think we should all stay here until Max gets back to us with some news."

"You want a rest, I think there's an inflatable mattress in one of the boxes in the main room," Harley offered.

"Thanks, but I guess I'll just wait it out," mumbled Steve, sinking back onto his chair. He wanted to push it further, but Carter had a close eye on him, and he didn't want to arouse suspicion. Carter was always the friendliest to me until today, he thought, puzzled. What could I have said to make him watch me so carefully?

Steve did truly feel that a nice long sleep was precisely what he needed. The lack of sleep combined with all of the tension and worries of the last couple of days were taking their toll. Now new concerns were spinning round in his head. But Max was an observer. He wouldn't hurt anyone, not yet anyway. He might find out more than Steve wanted him to, but he was sure his father wouldn't be harmed. If a call went out later for action, then Steve would just disregard his cover and walk out to warn Mark. If Dad's life was in danger, there would be no question of that, he told himself. Having persuaded himself that all would be all right for the moment, and having made a plan of action for later if needed, he relaxed a little, and settled in for the wait.

X X X

Greg arrived back shortly, announcing a successful trouble-free delivery of the photos. Harley filled him in with Max's report. It was mid-afternoon before they heard a vehicle draw up outside. The door banged and Max walked in. He looked disconcerted. Steve scanned his face anxiously, waiting for news.

"We're in trouble," Max stated flatly.

Harley sat up straight. "What do you mean?" he asked apprehensively.

"The boy upstairs?" Max said. "He's not Nathan Haughton-Handley."

Everyone gaped at him. "Then who is he?" asked Greg in shock.

"I don't know. But I followed the old guy to a house in Malibu on the beach. He had a key, so it was his own home. I went round the house and there was a guy sitting out on the decking at the back. He was small with blond hair. The old guy came out and brought him a drink. He called him Nathan. We have the wrong person."

There was silence for a while as everyone digested this. Steve's mind was racing. What would they do with Jesse?

"So Mr Haughton-Handley must know we don't have his son," Carter said slowly, working it out. "But he is pretending we do, on the phone. That explains why he's gone to work and doesn't seem worried. But who is the old guy?"

"Does this mean the cops are on to us?" Greg blurted, sounding panicked. "It must do!"

"I don't think so," Max said. Steve felt that his eyes flickered in his direction as he said it. "They are trying to catch us. But they can't know anything about us, or they would have moved in to save the captive we do have. Somehow you made a mistake and grabbed the wrong−"

"So it's our fault?" snapped Harley.

"Relax," Max said, keeping his voice calm. "You got the wrong guy but they still haven't a clue how to catch us."

"But what do we do with the guy upstairs?" said Greg.

"I phoned the boss," Max replied. "He's going to be here very soon. He didn't want to discuss it on the phone. He'll sort it out."

Steve felt a surge of adrenaline. The boss! Things were getting dangerous but as soon as he had seen the boss he could sneak out and call Cheryl. It was nearly over. They all heard the purr of an expensive car pull up outside. Steve took a deep breath. Crunch time.


	10. Chapter 10

The man who walked through the door was dressed sharply in a dark designer shirt worn under an equally designer suit. Steve quickly took in the expensive watch on his wrist and costly shoes on his feet. He walked with a calm confidence. This man was obviously enjoying the rewards of his illegal blackmailing schemes.

His gaze swept quickly around the room and fixed on Steve. He walked forward with hand outstretched. "Terrell Clark," he said smoothly. "You must be Steve Barber."

"It's great to meet you at last," Steve said sincerely, shaking his hand.

"And you. A shame it has to be in this situation," Terrell said. "Max has filled me in. Take a seat everyone, and we'll discuss it." They sat quickly on the assorted chairs in the office, but Terrell Clark remained standing. "Max, did you do what I asked?" he said.

"Yes," Max said guardedly.

"And did it confirm my suspicions?" Terrell asked.

"Yes," Max replied shortly.

"Very well," Terrell said with a sigh. "The situation saddens me gentlemen, but it appears we have the wrong hostage upstairs. Get rid of him."

There was an uneasy silence. "You mean drop him somewhere?" Greg asked.

"No," Terrell replied calmly. "I mean kill him."

Everyone exchanged glances. Steve tried to gauge the mood of the others.

"Why can't we just dump him somewhere?" Greg queried. "He doesn't know where he is, or anything about us."

"It's too late for that," Terrell responded, still composed. "He's friends with the cop here." Indicating Steve with his left hand, he drew a handgun from under his jacket with the other and pointed it at him.

Steve was startled. What on earth was going on? He felt his heartbeat quicken as he looked at the barrel of the gun.

"Huh?" Vincent Harley exclaimed. Greg looked similarly astounded, but Max simply looked smug.

"You've got it wrong," Steve stammered, but in his heart he knew that his cover was somehow blown.

Terrell stepped closer and kept the gun trained at Steve's head. Not taking his eyes off Steve, he pulled a video cassette tape from his pocket. "Play this, Max," he said.

Max silently took the tape and inserted it into the player beneath the TV set. Carter, Greg and Harley were looking at Steve in bewilderment that was quickly turning to anger.

The tape began to play and all eyes turned to the TV; all except Terrell's who stayed fixed on Steve's face. The picture was black and white and there was no sound, but the clarity of the image was good. Steve watched in horror as the video showed the room Jesse was being kept in and he saw himself walk through the door and greet the captive. The timeframe was stamped in the bottom of the shot and Steve realised that this was video from when he had guarded Jesse last night. He had checked for a surveillance camera in that room, dammit! On the screen, Jesse looked up at him with a smile as he walked in; Steve was obviously a friend as there was no fear in Jesse's face. When it reached the point where Steve undid the bonds tying Jesse's hands Harley gave a snarl and whipped round in his chair.

Steve felt that Harley was about to jump him, but Terrell silently held up a hand to keep Harley from doing so. The tape ended, and everyone turned back to look at Steve. He felt distinctly uncomfortable with all those angry eyes upon him. He looked up at Terrell and met his gaze. He didn't like the expression he saw there. Terrell looked faintly amused by the situation and Steve thought that rather than panicking that he had an undercover police officer in his gang, he was actually enjoying it.

"An error on your part, Mr Policeman," Terrell said. "I have high quality micro-cameras installed in every room of this building. The security system already here was lacking. Don't feel bad, you couldn't have known. They fit into tiny holes drilled into the wall, and transmit the data back to my computer at home. You wouldn't have seen them even if you looked."

Steve mentally kicked himself. He had known these men used sophisticated equipment when the situation called for it. Early on he had been concerned with bugs in his apartment. He knew it was possible. But in the excitement of the last twenty-four hours he hadn't been concentrating as well as he should have been.

Carter, Greg, Max and Harley were looking at him murderously. "You've got it wrong, I'm not a cop," Steve tried, not really believing he could rescue the state of affairs now. "I just didn't want to hurt anyone. I was just trying to make the captive comfortable. I only got involved with you guys for blackmail scams. You know, affairs and stuff. Not hurting anyone," he tailed off, feeling stupid. Terrell had let him talk without interrupting, and he had rambled on and it had sounded exactly as if he were just making excuses.

No one seemed to have anything to say. The silent seconds dragged out, and Steve could feel himself sweating. It's just making me look even more guilty, he thought. Not able to bear the silence any longer, he said, "You've got no evidence I'm a cop," and instantly regretted his words when he saw the flash of delight cross Terrell's face.

"As I think you know, Max went on a surveillance drive this afternoon, to investigate the old man seen with Mr Haughton-Handley," Terrell began suddenly, after a few more uncomfortable seconds of silence. He spoke in a sing-song voice, as if telling a story to a young child. "He went to a residence in Malibu. He told you he went round the back and saw Nathan Haughton-Handley on the deck. In actual fact he broke into the house and observed Nathan from inside."

Steve felt incensed that the safety of the he and his father's home had been violated like that by a crook like Max, but he kept his feelings to himself as Terrell continued his narrative.

"He quickly deduced that the boy on the deck was Nathan, of course, but as he turned to leave he caught sight of a photograph on the side. A framed photo of the old man, his arm around another man with a familiar face…"

On cue, Max brought out the photo showing Steve with his father. Steve was boiling with rage. Max had stolen a personal photo from his house. How dare he!

Terrell continued. "Max didn't need to do a great deal of research before discovering that so-called Steve Barber here is actually Lieutenant Steve Sloan of the LAPD."

The others exclaimed angrily as they looked at the photo, then at Steve. Terrell stepped forwards and placed the tip of the gun against Steve's forehead. "What do you say now, Mr Barber?"

Steve said nothing. It was too late for that; Terrell Clark even knew his rank.

"Why didn't you intervene before?" Greg blurted out. "As soon as you saw this?" He indicated the video player.

"I guessed that Steve was a policeman," Terrell explained. "But I still thought we had the right boy, until Max discovered the real Nathan hidden at the beach in Malibu. I asked Carter to keep an eye on him, to make sure he didn't go anywhere, until I had decided what to do."

So that explains the suspicious looks Carter was giving me, Steve thought. I should have acted on my instincts – I knew something was wrong.

Terrell continued, "Once we'd collected the money from Mr Haughton-Handley, who I was confident would pay up, I was going to dispose of Lt Sloan. I knew that, having come so far and not yet called in the cavalry, Steve must have been waiting to see me so he could arrest the whole lot of us. Greedy!" he sang out, clicking his tongue as if he was chastising a child. "Of course, that's not going to happen as our target obviously knows we don't have his son."

"Who do we have then?" Carter asked.

Max spoke up. "I couldn't find out exactly, but I saw a second photo in the house that interested me." He withdrew it from his pocket and held it up for them all to see. Steve noted with despondency that it was a picture of him and Jesse on the beach with their surfboards. He remembered it being taken just after they had caught a huge wave and they were both grinning with delight. There was going to be no denying it now.

"He's a friend of yours?" Harley snarled. "No wonder you didn't want us to beat him up! I'm going to beat the hell out of him right now." He got to his feet. Steve shot up too, but Terrell gave him a quick rap on the side of his head with the gun which made his head spin. "Sit down!" Terrell said sharply to Harley, pushing Steve back into his seat with his free hand. "Plenty of time for that later."

He lowered his voice again and turned back to Steve. "It's a very understanding friend you have there, who will remain a hostage while you do your work. You must be very close. You will be glad then, to spend your last moments with him."

He paused, and Steve bit back many a rejoinder that came to his mind, knowing that all would be fruitless. He had been weighing up his options for trying to fight them off and escape, but it was five against one. Even if Steve managed to cause enough chaos to get out of the door, he wouldn't have time to get upstairs and rescue Jesse. There was no way he would leave his friend at the mercy of these crooks.

Terrell sighed and looked up at the others. "You need to get rid of both of them. They know too much. I don't care who does it or how, but just make sure you do a good job. Then we'll have to relocate, as Lt Sloan may have shared details of our whereabouts with his superiors. I'll be back later tonight to discuss where we're going." He handed Max the gun, and Max kept it trained on Steve as Terrell shot a look at him that was little more than irritation as he walked out of the door.

Steve looked around at the furious faces of his former collaborators. Now he really was in trouble.

X X X

Unaware of the disaster that Steve was experiencing at the warehouse, Mark was at home washing up before getting ready for a late shift at the hospital. Amanda was drying up as she had been over for lunch. His shift didn't start for another two hours yet but Mark was finding his mind turning to Steve and worrying when he was stuck at home, and when he was at work he was kept occupied with other concerns, so he was planning to start early.

The phone rang and Mark quickly dried his hands before answering. It was Mr Haughton-Handley, and he sounded distressed. "They've left me another demand!" he said. "I think you should come over. You'll want to see this."

"I'll be right there," Mark said, anxiety rising. "As soon as I can."

"Is something wrong?" Amanda asked, astutely picking up on his emotions.

"Perhaps. I think so. I'm going to see Mr Haughton-Handley. He's got something he wants to show me. Will you come?"

"Of course," Amanda said, quickly drying the last glass. "Don't worry, I'm sure everything is okay. Cheryl would have contacted you if anything had been seriously wrong."

"Yes," Mark said, picking up his car keys. He didn't sound convinced.

When they arrived at the Haughton-Handley residence, the big gates being swung open by the gardener as they drew up, William Haughton-Handley ushered them inside quickly.

"I'd just got home from work and it was waiting for me," he said, indicating an envelope on the table in his lounge.

Mark looked at the envelope with foreboding. Mr Haughton-Handley was still agitated and he hated to think what it might contain. Seeing his hesitation, Amanda asked gently, "Would you like me to open it?"

Mark shook his head no. Steadying himself, he went over to table and picked up the envelope. He pulled out the pieces of paper that were inside. Amanda observed over his shoulder. The top sheet was a typed demand. 'See what happens when you don't play by our rules?' it read. 'We'll do worse than this. You have a new deadline, tomorrow morning at 9, same place. Your last chance to save your son.'

This didn't mean much, and Mark put it to the back of the sheets in his hand and uncovered the next. The image displayed was chilling and shocking. Amanda gasped and Mark felt unsteady. It was a picture of Jesse, who looked utterly terrible. His face, hands and clothing were covered in blood, and his left eye was black and swollen. His face looked extremely pale as if he hadn't been getting any sleep. His clothes were creased and the sleeve of his shirt was torn.

Amanda and Mark sank onto the sofa that stood beside the table. Mark flicked quickly through the other images. There were five pictures altogether, each showing Jesse looking battered and in a poor state. "Jesse…" Amanda breathed. "But how…? I mean, Steve…" Her voice tailed off.

Mark felt anguished as he looked at the pictures of the friend that he was unable to help. Why had he had to endure this? Steve should be there looking out for him. Mark felt an unexpected and extremely unusual burst of anger towards his son, surprising himself as that was an emotion he rarely associated with anyone, and particularly not Steve. The pictures were vivid and horrific enough to create it. The anger quickly faded to worry. "He wouldn't have let that be done to Jesse," Mark said, hoping he was right. Surely not? "But then something must have happened to Steve. He can't have been around to look out for Jesse. What if he's in trouble? Cheryl might not know. I need to use your phone!" he said, looking up at William Haughton-Handley.

The man nodded mutely and handed over the phone. His own thoughts were filled with guilty relief that it was not really his son that the kidnappers had grabbed.

Amanda tried to think of something she could say to reassure Mark as he dialled, but she was stuck for words. She couldn't help but imagine the conditions Jesse was experiencing and the pain he must be suffering from the wounds. What had they done to him? And why hadn't Steve intervened? This had gone too far. She hoped that the photos would convince Cheryl to pull Jesse and Steve out of the situation.


	11. Chapter 11

The four members of the gang stared at Steve in silence. Again he was tempted to bolt, but could not knowing that Jesse was still upstairs. Max held a gun at him and Greg now held the other gun that had been kept by the person on guard duty.

With a sudden bellow of rage Harley leapt forwards and fell on Steve. He fell sideways off the chair he was sitting on, and Harley landed on top of him, giving him a swift punch in the head and then the stomach, thoroughly winding him. "You devious traitor!" Harley was screaming.

Gasping for breath, Steve was aware of Carter and Max pulling Harley back. "Cool it," Max snapped. "If we get riled we'll make mistakes. Let's put him upstairs and then we can discuss what we're going to do."

Harley nodded, and reached over and grasped the front of Steve's shirt. He yanked hard and Steve scrabbled to get his feet under him to stand upright. He looked into Harley's eye defiantly. Harley gave him a hard shove towards the door. "You've ruined everything! Think of the money you could have had."

"I don't want any money that has been obtained the way you get it," Steve retorted.

Carter opened the door and led the way. The other three followed close behind Steve to make sure he wasn't going to make a dash for it. Outside the room with the padlock and bolts, Carter went to open the door but Max stopped him. "Wait! Empty out your pockets, cop."

Reluctantly, Steve handed over his keys and money he had in his pockets. He had no weapon to surrender but he did have a cell phone in his inside pocket that he was hoping to hang on to. He had no such luck though, as Greg wasn't satisfied with what he gave up. "We know you've got a cell phone. Give it up now or I'll give you a bullet hole in the arm to keep you occupied." He waved his gun threateningly.

Steve hesitated a moment too long. Harley grabbed the back of the jacket and yanked it downwards off his shoulders. Steve had to twist his arms to allow it to come off or he risked having a shoulder dislocated. Harley patted the pockets and triumphantly drew out Steve's cell phone. Max gave Steve a whack around the head with the gun for his resistance. Steve's head was beginning to feel very bruised.

Carter meanwhile had unlocked the door, and he opened it now and someone gave Steve a heavy push through it. He stumbled over the threshold and turned around, anticipating further blows, but the door slammed and he heard the bolts being push shut. With a heavy heart he turned to face Jesse, who was looking at him with wide eyes.

"Steve?" he asked uncertainly.

"My cover's blown," he said, feeling a pang of regret as he saw Jesse's eye was still very swollen.

"Are you okay?" Jesse asked in a concerned voice. "How did they react?"

"Not well," Steve said grimly, going over to Jesse and untying the cords on his wrists.

Jesse looked worried. "You don't look injured. What are they going to do?"

"They haven't injured me yet," Steve said. "Much," he added, as one of the bruises on his head started to throb. "But I'm afraid it's bad news. They broke into the beach house and know exactly who I am, and saw a photo of us and so know that you are my friend."

Jesse pondered this a moment while absently massaging his wrists. "So…?" he prompted, as Steve sank down beside him and leant his head against the wall.

"I'm so sorry Jess," Steve blurted, putting his head in his hands. "I shouldn't have let it get this far. I should have got you out of here as soon as I realised! I should never have endangered your life for the purposes of catching a few crooks."

"Hey," Jesse said seriously. "Don't worry. You didn't know what was going to happen."

"They are going to kill us both," Steve said flatly.

"Oh," Jesse said. "We know too much?"

Steve nodded.

Jesse took a deep breath. "Well, if there was anyone I'd want to share my last moments with, it'd be you." He gave Steve a friendly punch on the shoulder.

Steve smiled. "Thanks." He pulled himself together. "I don't have a clue what they are going to do or we could try and think of a way out of it."

Jesse turned thoughtful. "Let's start at the beginning. Is there anyway we can get out of this room here?"

"No," Steve said with a shake of his head. "We're on an upper floor, no window, and the door is well locked."

"What do you think they might do?" Jesse asked nervously, his worries interrupting his attempts at logical thinking.

"It's the boss who's ordered them to kill us, but I don't think any of them are particularly prone to violence, except maybe Harley. He's the one who attacked you with the rat."

Jesse shuddered. "Don't remind me." He looked down at the dried blood on himself with distaste.

"I don't think any of them has likely killed anyone before," Steve continued. "They've got two guns, so they might take us off somewhere and shoot us. Or they might try and do something less direct, so they don't have to get their hands dirty." He threw up his hands. "Oh, I can't imagine, and to be honest I don't want to. They have imaginative minds, I know that much."

Jesse was quiet, and Steve wondered if he ought to have reassured his friend rather than being frank with him. "Jesse?" he asked.

"I was just thinking about lunches at your place with your father and Amanda, followed by an afternoon riding the waves," Jesse said wistfully.

"We're going to do that again," Steve said emphatically. "We'll get out of this. Don't give up."

"I haven't given up," Jesse assured him. "Just reminiscing. So, do you have a plan yet?" he added teasingly.

"Me?" Steve joked back. "Why is it up to me to come up with a plan? You're the one that's been sitting on your backside for the last couple of days." His voice tailed off as he heard the faint clang of footsteps on the metal staircase. "They are coming back already!" he exclaimed, remembering that Terrell Clark had told them to be quick about it. "Try to overpower them as they come through the door." He grabbed the cord that had bound Jesse's wrists and stood beside the door. Jesse picked up the water jug, and got into position with a determined expression.

The bolts squeaked as they were unfastened and the door swung open. Steve swung his fist at the first person to come through the door, which happened to be Greg, and he went down. Steve landed on his back and got the cord around his neck. Carter, who was following, started towards Steve but Jesse appeared from behind the open door and whacked him hard with the jug. With a yell Carter fell down too but then Max and Harley piled through the door. Max knocked Jesse over and was joined by Carter, who hadn't been hit hard enough to be knocked out. Harley gave Steve a savage kick to the stomach sending him rolling off Greg, who pulled the cord from his neck and gasped for air.

Steve and Jesse struggled but they were each fighting two men. Jesse was soon bound hand and foot. Steve was still managing to keep the ties that Greg was now wielding at bay, but once Jesse was sorted Max and Carter came over and then it was four against one. They sat on Steve and he was unable to breathe as they tied his ankles and wrists together tightly.

The four men stood up, panting, looking down at their captives on the floor. "Tied like pigs for roasting!" Harley exclaimed in delight. "I'm glad you fought, Sloan. Made it more interesting. Stupid though!" He chuckled.

"Concentrate," muttered Max. "Let's get this done with as soon as possible before someone starts wondering why they haven't heard from Sloan in a while."

Steve and Jesse were both picked up, one person holding under each arm, and they were half carried, half dragged out of the room. No effort was made to lift them down the stairs and Steve's ankles banged painfully on each step. He heard Jesse protesting behind him – "Ouch! Watch it!" – and almost smiled; at least his friend hadn't lost his spirit.

They were dragged across the warehouse floor towards the van that had a logo for a window cleaning company on the side. Jesse recognised it as the one he had been duped into climbing into and had been kidnapped in.

Greg and Max dropped Steve roughly onto the concrete floor while they opened the rear doors of the van. They picked Steve up again and literally threw him into the back. His shoulder hit the floor of the van painfully and he slid along and hit his head on the back of the front seats. Jesse was thrown in after him.

The doors of the van were slammed with a crash that made their heads ring. Steve strained his ears to hear the conversation taking place outside as Jesse struggled to get comfortable, which wasn't easy; their arms were forced painfully behind them. Steve made out that only Greg and Harley were going to be driving the van, but Max was going to follow in his car. He heard the main door of the warehouse open up and the men climbed in the front. Greg started the engine, and the van moved off.


	12. Chapter 12

Greg, who was driving the van, seemed to take delight in making it corner sharply, causing Steve and Jesse to be tossed about like rolls of old carpet. The suspension on the vehicle was pretty dire, and as a result Steve felt thoroughly battered even after only a couple of minutes of travelling. It was impossible to find the most comfortable position and lie still; with every bump in the road he was jolted clear into the air only to land with a painful bump each time. To make things worse there were several objects that had been lying in the back: an old paint can, a car jack, and a piece of pipe among others. These clattered about and moved underneath the captives as they were shaken around, making for some painful landings back on the floor of the van.

It was noisy in the back, and Steve was unable to make out much conversation between Greg and Harley, although there didn't seem to be much except for brief discussion about directions from time to time. Cricking his neck up to the front was awkward and he soon abandoned trying to see where they were going, as all he could make out was sky and the very tops of buildings.

Steve tried to catch Jesse's eye but in the brief moments they were both facing the right way Jesse's thoughts seemed to be occupied with trying to land most softly and he wasn't looking at Steve.

Gradually the noise of heavy traffic started to fade. The journey seemed to be going on and Steve guessed that they were being taken out of the city. Suddenly, a particularly large dip in the road catapulted Steve right over. Landing on his side with a heavy crash, he felt his fingers brush against Jesse's hands. Quickly, before he was dislodged again, he reached out and gripped Jesse's fingers. Jesse reacted back and grasped Steve by the back of his shirt so that they stayed together, back to back.

Steve used touch to locate the knot that secured the bonds on Jesse's wrists. He worked to undo it, getting frustrated as each new bump in the road jerked his hands away making him lose his place. It was tight but eventually Steve's efforts were rewarded and he felt the knot loosen under his hands. He managed to get his head over near Jesse's ear and hissed, "It's undone but keep the rope wound round." Jesse nodded understanding, then started to work on Steve's ties.

It sounded as if the van was now the only vehicle on the road. Steve heard the occasional car pass them but it seemed they were well out of the city. Jesse gave him a triumphant tap to indicate that he had succeeded. Steve kept his hands wrapped round with the bonds in case Greg or Harley happened to look round, but they didn't seem to have paid them any attention so far. He bent his knees to bring his ankles up to his hands and cursed silently as he realised he wasn't that supple.

After what seemed like an hour of driving, the van turned off the road onto a rough dirt track. The vibrations in the back of the van for Jesse and Steve were intense. Steve was thrown about so much he could hardly see straight, then he banged his head hard against the van wall and felt dizzy.

Abruptly, the van came to a stop. Steve sighed with relief. Greg and Harley turned around in their seats. Steve hoped fervently that they couldn't see the loose ropes. "Worms!" Harley sneered, then they got out, slamming the doors behind them.

Steve twisted round into a sitting position and Jesse did the same beside him. Steve reached over and swiftly pulled away Jesse's bonds on his hands, and Jesse did the same for him. Steve reached down and untied the ropes on his ankles and Jesse reached down to untie his own. Steve got to his feet, although in a bent position as the van was tall enough to allow him to stand fully upright. He grabbed the car jack and kicked the pipe over towards Jesse.

"We're going to fight the whole way," he said in a low, determined voice.

"Absolutely," Jesse said, struggling with the knot on his ankles.

Steve could hear Greg and Harley move round to the rear of the van and he stood ready by the doors at the back. They hadn't had much success at fighting before but now the odds were better. One on one, he thought grimly, and frowned as he heard a car draw up and Max's voice. Okay, three against two, he conceded silently. But still better than before.

"Jess, get a move on!" he hissed.

"It's too tight," Jesse muttered.

The seconds dragged out and Steve's tension was growing. What were they planning? Unexpectedly, there was a large thud on the rear doors and the van jolted. Steve almost lost his balance. This is it, he thought. But rather than the doors opening, as he anticipated, the van rolled forwards, and then there was a sickening feeling of falling. Steve did lose his balance this time, and fell towards the seats as the front of the van tilted downwards. Jesse fell on top of Steve. The falling sensation seemed to last for minutes rather than seconds, as time seemed to slow and Steve was only aware of the van plummeting and a confusing tangle of arms and legs.

With an impact that was a turmoil of noise and reverberation the van's downward motion was stopped. Steve heard a huge splash of water and realised with horror that the van had been pushed into a river or lake. He and Jesse were tossed about and he lost track of which way was up.

X X X

On the edge of the lake, Max, Greg and Carter watched as the van bobbed on the surface for perhaps a minute or two, settling in an upright position, and gradually filled with water and sunk out of sight. "Done," Max said. "Let's get back to the warehouse and pack up."

They climbed into Max's car and drove away.


	13. Chapter 13

_A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews. It's good to know people are still reading it and enjoying it!_

Meanwhile, in the back of the van immediately after hitting the water, Steve struggled to his feet. Water was already gushing in from all directions. He went over to the rear doors and tried to open them, but it was no use. They were either locked or the water pressure outside was already too great.

He rushed unsteadily to the other end of the van, through water that was already a foot deep. Jesse was still sitting down amid the water.

"What are you doing?" Steve shouted over the rush of water.

"My feet are still tied!" Jesse yelled back with a note of panic in his voice.

Steve splashed back over to him. The van was sinking fast and the water was deeper by the second. The floor was starting to tilt as the front end was heavier than the rear and was sinking faster. Steve plunged his hands under the water and felt for Jesse's knot. The water had swollen the ropes and he couldn't tell which bit to pull.

Jesse's head was almost under the water now. "We need something to cut it," Steve yelled.

"We don't have anything sharp!" Jesse said.

Steve looked around in desperation, but there was nothing sharp that he could see. Jesse saw the hopelessness in his eyes, and pushed Steve's hands aside and tried again. He had to stick his head under the water to reach, and when he tried to come up for air the water was above his head. Steve grabbed him under the arm and hauled him upright. The water was now up to their chests.

Steve clambered over the now submerged backs of the front seats. It was no use trying to open the door, but he ducked under the water that was almost to the ceiling at the front and felt for the window handle. Thankfully, the windows in the van weren't electric, but manual. It was hard to get the motion underneath the water but Steve stayed down turning the handle until his lungs were burning before going up for air.

Or trying to. The van was almost completely full of water and Steve could only just get his mouth up to the tiny amount of air still stuck in the roof in order to suck some in. He felt movement beside him and realised that Jesse had managed to join him in the front of the van. With a 'gloop' the last of the air escaped from the van and it was completely submerged. Slowly it sank deeper under the water. Steve had managed to open the window wide enough to wriggle through and he did so, feeling Jesse right behind him. He shot upwards and surfaced on the top of a large lake. He gulped in great breaths of air thankfully.

However, Jesse did not appear. After what seemed like a long time but was probably only ten seconds or so, Steve dived down again. He could see the van on the bottom about fifteen feet down. The water was murky but he could see through it enough to observe Jesse struggling weakly three-quarters of the way out of the window.

Steve swam down to the window and tried to see what the problem was. One of Jesse's feet had got stuck around the seat belt and despite his struggles he wasn't twisting the right way to free it. Steve managed to get his arms in and separate the foot. Jesse shot upwards moving his legs like a dolphin as his ankles were still tied. Steve followed, surfacing beside him.

Jesse was floundering on the surface, not having the strength to tread water with only his arms. Steve pulled him towards the bank. Progress was slow because they were both exhausted, but eventually Steve made it to a part low enough to pull himself out. He grabbed a handful of reeds and heaved his body out of the water. Then he reached back and took hold of Jesse under his arms and pulled him out too.

Steve and Jesse collapsed on their backs amongst the reeds, looking up at the blue sky, getting their breath back. "You okay?" Steve puffed.

"I am now," Jesse said. He forced his aching body into a sitting position and looked out across the lake. He could see no sign of a building anywhere and the ground around the lake was growing thick with trees. "That's where we must have been pushed in," he said, pointing.

Steve lifted his head to look. A short way around the bank from them he could see a high dirt bank, presumably with a track running along it. It was about a six foot drop to the water. Felt much further when we were dropping, he thought.

"I can't see anyone around, can you?" Jesse asked, causing Steve to focus more on their immediate predicament. He scanned the area quickly.

"No. They are either hiding in wait for us somewhere or they assumed we were dead when the van went down. Let's hope it's the latter," Steve said.

Jesse reached down to his ankles and located the troublesome knot again. Without the pressure of being in a sinking van the knot came undone easily and Jesse looked sheepishly at Steve. "That was nearly the end of me," he said.

"It wasn't though," Steve said. There was a cold wind despite the clear sky and he was beginning to feel cold in his soaking clothes. He stripped off his shirt and wrung it out as best he could, then did the same for his socks, while Jesse did likewise.

"Heaven knows where we are," Steve commented. "Come on, we need to find a main road and hitch a lift. I want to get back to LA and to the warehouse before they all disappear."

"We better," Jesse said with a grin, feeling back to his usual self now the main danger had passed, despite all that had happened. "I don't want to have gone through all that for nothing."

Squelching, they headed for the dirt track, then followed it in the direction they thought they had come from. About a mile later they emerged onto a tarmacked road. It was quiet, but Steve could see a car approaching in the distance.

Steve stepped into the road as it grew nearer and thankfully it pulled to a stop. Steve went over to the driver's window. "I'm Lieutenant Steve Sloan with the LAPD," he explained. "There's been an incident, I need to get to the city straight away."

The driver looked at Steve's dripping clothes, and Jesse in the background in a similar state, with uncertainty.

"I'll pay to have your car cleaned, please, this is an emergency!" Steve said, correctly guessing the nature of the man's reluctance.

"I guess so, I'm headed that way," the driver conceded, still unhappy about it, but Steve didn't give him a chance to change his mind, and jumped in the back seat while Jesse ran around the car and got in the other side.

"What's the time?" Jesse enquired, answering his own question by peering over the front seat at looking at the clock on the dash. "Whoa, almost six o'clock? I'd lost all track of time."

"Being tied up in the back of a van does that to you," remarked Steve. "I need to borrow your cell," he said to the driver, as the car moved off.


	14. Chapter 14

"Mark," Cheryl sighed. "I know you are worried about Steve and Jesse but Steve knows what he's doing. He would have contacted us if anything was going wrong."

"But what if he was unable to?" insisted Mark, looking impatiently at his watch. Cheryl had been tied up with other business and it had been a while before Mark and Amanda had got to talk to her. Now she didn't seem to be taking the situation seriously.

"Look at the photos!" Amanda exclaimed. "Steve would never allow that to happen to Jesse."

"If he doesn't ring tonight for his update call then I'll worry," Cheryl said. "There's probably a simple explanation."

"What time does he usually ring?" Mark demanded.

Cheryl shrugged. "Well, any time in the afternoon or evening. We don't have a set time because it depends when he can get a moment to call."

Mark paced up and down the office in the police station where they were talking. "Cheryl, there's something wrong. I've got a hunch, an instinct. You've known me long enough, trust me on this."

Cheryl pulled a face. "There's not a lot I can do. I'm not rushing in there and risking ruining the operation. But I tell you what," she continued hastily, seeing Mark and Amanda both about to jump in, "I'll ring his cell phone. Even if he doesn't answer, which is likely," she warned, "he'll know I've tried to contact him."

"Will you do it now?" Mark asked.

"Yeah," Cheryl said, dialling the number from the phone on the desk. She pressed the speaker phone button so they could all listen in. It rang twice, then was answered.

"Lieutenant Steve Sloan's phone," an unfamiliar voice announced.

The three in the office exchanged uncertain glances. "Uh, is Steve there?" Cheryl queried.

"Nope," the voice replied. "He's dead." And the line cut out.

There was silence in the little office as no one could think of a word to say.

X X X

"He might be bluffing," Cheryl said eventually, breaking the silence. "But… I'm sending everyone I can to the warehouse. It's time we went in." She hesitated, as if wanting to say some words of reassurance, but none came easily to mind, and she went out to organise the raid.

Amanda turned to look at Mark, whose face was ashen. "Sit down," she said gently, leading the older doctor to a chair and pushing him onto it.

"I knew something was wrong, I should have insisted harder, and sooner!" he said with anguish.

Amanda put an arm around his shoulders, aware that she herself was shaking.

"He can't be…" Mark tailed off, unable to say the word. "But they know exactly who he is! They know he's a police officer. If they know that, he must be in trouble."

Amanda had been thinking the same thing, but aloud she said, "He's got good instincts, like you. Steve can look after himself."

"I'd like to think so," Mark said in a hollow voice. "But he's not invulnerable."

"Let's go home," Amanda suggested. "I'll drive you."

"I can't just sit at home waiting for news!" Mark proclaimed, standing up quickly. "I've got to go to the warehouse and see what's happening."

"Mark, are you sure that's a good idea?" Amanda said, putting out an arm to stop Mark rushing off. He was about to reply when a sound made them stop. They looked around.

"It's Cheryl's cell phone," Mark said. "She's left it on the desk."

"Answer it," Amanda said, so Mark did so.

"Cheryl's phone, Mark speaking," he said.

"Dad?" said a puzzled voice on the other end.

"Steve?" cried Mark incredulously.

"Dad, I need to talk to Cheryl," Steve started, unaware of the feelings of joy and relief that were running through his father.

"You're alive?" Mark blurted. "I mean, are you safe? What about Jesse?"

"We're both fine," Steve said, realising that his father must have been worrying about him. "Just a little bruised. And wet." Mark heard Jesse mutter something in the background and both he and Steve chuckled.

Mark sank back into a chair, grinning up at Amanda with unashamed delight. "They're both okay!" he whispered.

"We need to organise a raid on the warehouse," Steve was saying, obviously impatient to get his message over. "They are clearing out, they discovered who I was."

"Cheryl's already on the way there," Mark told him.

"What!" Steve exclaimed. "Tell her to stop! We've got to get the timing right so that we strike when Terrell Clark is there. He's the main mastermind of the whole thing."

"I'll go and find her right now," Mark promised, handing the phone to Amanda and running out of the door in search of Cheryl. Further conversation could wait now he knew his son was safe.

Amanda put the phone to her ear. "Where are you?" she asked.

"On our way back to the city. We should be there in about an hour. Get some surveillance on the warehouse and call me back if they see Terrell Clark there." Steve gave Amanda a description of Terrell and the other men involved, then hung up.

Amanda put the phone back on the desk, then allowed herself to do a little dance of happiness and relief, stopping quickly as she realised she could be seen through the window. She went out in search of Mark.


	15. Chapter 15

**Part 15**

As they neared the police station, Steve scribbled his address and telephone number onto a piece of paper and gave it to the driver. "I appreciate you doing this. Contact me and I'll get your car cleaned as promised." It needs it, he thought, looking at the mess the lake water from their clothes had made of the back seats, but he wasn't going to get preoccupied with that now. As the car pulled to a stop he leapt from the car and ran inside, followed by Jesse, pastpolice officers who gave bemused glances at their wet clothes and haste, until he reached his department and found Cheryl on a telephone giving orders. He saw Amanda and Mark sitting on chairs over to one side; he gave them a brief smile and turned back to Cheryl. "What's the news?" he asked, trying to get his breath.

He noticed Mark and Amanda catch sight of Jesse's black eye and they gave Steve reproachful looks. I can explain later, he told himself, hearing Jesse reassuring them with "I'm fine, and so is Steve," and Mark's confused tone as he exclaimed, "You're soaked!"

"The men only got back to the warehouse about half an hour ago," Cheryl said, going straight in as she could see from Steve's urgent expression that he wouldn't have patience with pleasantries.

Steve nodded. That made sense, they had had to drive back from the lake too.

"We've got surveillance teams watching from a distance ready to move in when needed. The large main front door of the storage place has been opened and they have been packing up boxes and bringing them to the door. I've just heard that the person you described for us, Terrell Clark, has just arrived with a small lorry and they are starting to load it with the boxes. Looks like they are moving out. There's five men there in total, is that all?"

"Yes, that's everyone that is involved," Steve said with satisfaction.

"Great, then I'll tell the teams to move in," Cheryl said, reaching for the phone.

"Wait," Steve said, putting his hand on her arm. "I want to be there. Please," he said.

Mark spoke up. "Steve, don't you think it's time you had a rest, and let Cheryl take care of things now? You've done your share. You look done in."

"I have to be there for this, Dad," Steve said. "It's important that these guys are all caught. This was my operation, I've earned the right to be there at the end." He looked hard at Cheryl, who avoided Mark's gaze and shrugged.

"Okay, but be quick."

Steve smiled his thanks and rushed off. He rapidly changed into dry clothes and put on a bullet proof vest. He collected a gun and drove swiftly to the warehouse, a now familiar drive.

As he approached the warehouse Steve saw a contingent of police men hiding behind one of the buildings, one of whom waved him in. He parked his car and got out. "Cheryl told us you were coming," the police officer in charge said. "It looks like they are almost ready to leave, we don't want to wait a minute longer."

"I'm ready," Steve said determinedly.

With the addition of Steve the arresting group now numbered ten. Weapons at the ready, they ran quietly and swiftly down the road towards the warehouse belonging to Terrell Clark.

Steve saw Max ahead of them, loading a box onto the back of the lorry, whose doors at the rear were open and backed up to the entrance. He gave a yell and started to run in the opposite direction. As the police reached the warehouse two officers peeled off and went after Max. Steve kept with the group that ran into the warehouse.

"Police, hands in the air!" someone shouted, and Steve felt great satisfaction as he saw the surprise and dismay register on the faces of his would-be killers.

Terrell Clark didn't try to run; he put his hands up slowly and waited for an officer to approach him and arrest him, but he wore a look of fury. Carter similarly realised it was all over and didn't fight. An officer pulled a gun from Carter's pocket and confiscated it.

Greg looked as if he were looking for a way out, but with eight police officers blocking the only exit there wasn't much chance of escape. "This is your fault Carter. You are an idiot for answering that cell phone!" Greg yelled as he was bundled to the floor and handcuffed. He looked up at Carter, and followed his gaze. Carter was staring in astonishment at Steve, who couldn't help himself and gave a friendly wave. Hang on, someone is missing, Steve thought. Where's Harley?

Greg struggled on the floor under the weight of three police officers. "Hey! You're dead! We killed you!"

"Shut the hell up!" a voice from above bellowed out. Steve and the other officers spun around to look for the source of the voice. Vincent Harley was standing at the top of the stairs by the open door. He raised the gun in his hand and before anyone could move he fired a volley of bullets into the warehouse below. Steve ducked but heard a loud grunt from beside him. The officer standing next to him fell to the floor clutching his thigh – he had been hit.

It had all been going so well up to that point. Steve felt anger rise within him. Now I'm mad, he thought, sprinting for the stairs, followed by three other officers. Harley aimed a shot at him but luckily it missed, hitting the concrete floor a few feet to his right. Harley seemed to realise that he couldn't fight off four policemen by himself and he disappeared out of sight.

"There's nowhere to go, Harley!" Steve shouted, pounding up the stairs. "Give it up!" He arrived in the upstairs corridor in time to see the last door, belonging to the bathroom, bang shut. He ran along to it and paused outside the door. The three officers who had followed him stopped beside him. They spread out, two on each side of the door, then Steve counted to three and they burst through the door. Directly ahead was a small window, and Steve saw Harley's head disappear, then his hands as he let himself drop from the window feet first. There was a clang, and Steve rushed over to the window and saw that Harley had landed on a large commercial trash container that was positioned just in the right spot beneath the window.

"Go down and make sure he doesn't get away!" Steve told his back-up. They ran back along the corridor. Steve stuck his head back out of the window and eyed up the drop. Harley had just picked himself up from the landing on the ground and raised his gun and fired a round at Steve. Steve withdrew his head quickly, banging it on the window frame, but then he heard the gun click as Harley tried to fire a second time. He's out of bullets! he thought jubilantly, and wasted no more time in swinging his legs out of the window and letting go before he could get concerned about the drop.

He bent his knees as he landed with a loud resounding clang onto the lid of the container. He pulled himself to the edge and rolled off onto the ground. Before he could find his balance Harley stepped out of the shadow of the container and hit him hard against the side of the head with the gun. Then he ran. Steve was sent sprawling on to the floor, feeling dizzy, but forced himself to his feet as quickly as he could. Harley was heading away from the industrial site, across scrubland towards the road and houses in the distance. If he reached there Steve would quickly lose him.

His head still reeling, Steve started after him. His body was aching and worn out from lack of sleep, being bounced about in the back of the van and the stress of having to escape drowning, but as he ran events from the last few days flickered through his mind: giving a bomb to little Kaitlyn Brown, the kidnap of Jesse and his subsequent mistreatment, the attempted murder of himself and Jesse. His anger grew anew, and these thoughts gave his exhausted body strength to find an extra burst of speed, and the gap between him and Harley lessened. With a final effort he closed the gap and launched forwards, tackling Harley to the ground. They both fell heavily, sending up a cloud of dust, just as the other police officers appeared around the side of the building and came running towards them.

Steve forced Harley's arms behind him and held tightly. He squirmed, but gave up when he realised there were now four police surrounding him, and his body sagged in defeat. Steve took the handcuffs from his belt and secured them round Harley's wrists. "Read him his rights," he panted, feeling the tiredness hit him like a truck.

X X X

"Look, I've told you already, I'm fine," Steve protested for the third time. "I'm not going to the hospital."

Mark turned to face Jesse but Jesse stopped him before he could get any words out. "Same for me," he said. "All I need is a good meal and then a sleep."

"And a bath," Amanda said, wrinkling up her nose.

Steve had to admit, there was a certain odour hanging around him and Jesse. Must be the water from the lake, he thought. Mark hadn't been happy with Steve rushing straight off back to the people who had tried to kill him. He had made excuses to stay around the police station and wait for news, and Jesse and Amanda had stayed with him. They were relieved to get the call from Steve saying that they had all been arrested. Steve had arrived back at the police station to find Jesse almost asleep on a chair and his father ready with all sorts of arguments to persuade him to go for a check up at the hospital.

"But your eye," Mark tried with Jesse, hoping to get at least one of them to get some medical attention.

"It's just a bruise. You know there is no need for hospitalisation for a black eye," Jesse said. "What would be most medicinal is a nice meal," he hinted again.

"Let's just go home," Steve said wearily. "If you really have to you can check me over there to make sure I'm not hiding a horrendous injury somewhere. But I'm not," he added firmly.

"Okay," Mark agreed in defeat. "I'll rustle us up a meal while you have a shower. Jesse, Amanda?"

"I'm there!" Jesse exclaimed. "I dread to think what the food in my apartment looks like after… how many days has it been?"

"Who cares?" Steve said. "Let's just go!"

THE END

_A/N: Thanks so much to all of you who have taken the time to review this story and who have stuck with it over the last couple of months. Hope you enjoyed reading it - I enjoyed writing it!_


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